


now or never now

by quinziggle



Category: DC Extended Universe, DCU (Comics), Harley Quinn (Comics)
Genre: F/F, Harley Quinn is Bad With Feelings, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kindergarten Teacher Ivy, Mechanic Harley, POC Pamela Isley, POC Selina Kyle, Past Abusive Relationship(s), Single Parent Harley Quinn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:02:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23232904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quinziggle/pseuds/quinziggle
Summary: Picture this.Harleen Frances Quinzel, 28 years old. Blonde hair, blue eyes. 5’2.She takes her meds, she sees her therapist biweekly and she has a full-time job and full custody of her daughter, Lucy Quinzel, age 5.For the first time in a long time, things are looking up.There’s just one teeny problem.Lucy’s kindergarten teacher, Miss Isley.Normally, if Harley has a problem with someone they end up with fewer teeth. However, Miss Isley hasn’t done anything wrong per say. In fact, she's a little too perfect. Something is definitely up, and Harley’s going to get to the bottom of it. She’s got a little note saved on her phone to write down evidence, and a few pieces of visual evidence in her camera roll. In short, she’s good to go.aka. Harley has a big crush and goes about it all the wrong way
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel, Talia al Ghul/Selina Kyle
Comments: 174
Kudos: 338





	1. aquarium

**Author's Note:**

> this is set in a gotham where batman's kind of just like a local cryptid, no one's really seen him but everyone's weird uncle has a story about him. joker is in prison in a different state and he's a criminal but not like. the joker. he's called joe in this, joe kerr get it. i'm funny.

“Mommy,” Lucy says quietly. It’s three in the morning and the little scamp’s got toothpaste in her hair. Harley groans and rubs her eyes until she feels awake enough to reply. Apparently, she takes too long because her daughter says, “Mommy!” again, a little more insistently. Harley sits up slowly, blinking groggily. “What’s wrong, jellybean?”  
“I had a dream. A bad one,” Lucy whispers, and her eyes look teary. Harley reaches for her, alarmed. “Hey, hey, no, come on,” She says, swinging Lucy into her lap in a well-practised motion. “Tell me what happened, Lu. What didya dream?”  
Lucy sniffles into her shirt for a minute, overwhelmed with emotion.  
Then she says, “Daddy was chasing us,” Harley’s heart sinks. “He was being bad, mama.”  
She takes a breath before replying, looking at Lucy’s crumpled, tear-streaked face. “Daddy’s not going to be chasing anyone, baby. He’s far away from us now, okay?” She lifts Lucy up to rest on her hip as she moves to grab some tissues from the desk across the room and dabs at the small face carefully, helping her blow her nose. Then, she puts her down on the bed and goes to unplug her phone from the wall. “It’ll be mornin’ for Auntie ‘Lina and Auntie Ta, should we give them a ring?” Lucy’s little face brightens up immediately. “Yes!” 

She gets Selina’s contact up on Whatsapp and taps the video call button, holding out the phone for Lucy to take. It’s massive in her little fingers and for a minute looks like she’ll drop it, but Lucy hangs on determinedly and soon Talia’s face fills the screen, hair in a pristine updo with her make-up all done apart from her lipstick. “Hi Auntie Ta!” Lucy says, breathless with excitement. Since her aunties left for a business trip Abu Dhabi, the time difference has been a source of both distress and delight for the little girl. Delight, because she can call them when she’s had a bad dream, and distress because she can’t always show them her projects for school until the next day. “Hello, precious,” Talia croons, waving a perfectly manicured hand at the camera. Used to Lucy’s nightmares, she asks: “Would you like to hear a story about Mr Fidget?”  
Lucy listens enraptured as her auntie tells her all about the cat’s latest misadventures in the kitchens of the fancy hotel the two of them are staying at. Mr Fidget, or Nyx as Selina - ever the dramatic - named him officially, is a rescue tabby with one ear, perpetually looking for a fight. The little beast cannot sit still, hence his nickname.  
Soon, Selina enters the shot, skin make-up free, glowing and dark brown from the sun. Her short curls are wet and tousled, most likely from the pool, and she looks the happiest Harley’s ever seen her. “Hi, small portions!” she says grinning at Lucy. “Hey Harl.”  
“Hi Auntie Lina!” Lucy shouts, smiling like a little sunbeam.  
Selina settles in next to Talia, who pretends to look disgusted by Selina getting her chloriney hair all over her camisole, but dutifully kisses the side of her head, extremely pleased by the affection. Selina always has had a knack for aloof strays, it’s amusing that she now permanently enjoys the company of a haughty pedigree in the form of her wife. 

Harley lets Lucy babble happily on to for another twenty minutes before she surreptitiously taps her wrist, making eye contact with Talia. Selina notices too, and they both start to speak at once. Lucy giggles. Talia tries again. “Lucy, beloved, we have to get on now,” She says, sounding genuinely crestfallen. She very well could be, but it’s difficult to tell as the woman’s a bit of an enigma. “And you need to get some sleep,” Selina adds, winking at the camera. “How are you going to go to the aquarium tomorrow if you don’t get some rest now? I bet the fish will be able to tell how sleepy you are and do lots of tricks while you’re not looking!”  
“No, they won’t Auntie Lina! That’s silly!” Lucy says, but her eyes are drooping and she lets out a big yawn. Harley takes the phone from her gently. “Thanks for talkin’ to her,” She says, quietly. “I’d better get her ta bed, she’ll be tired else.” Selina and Talia say their goodbyes and she hangs up, putting the phone back on charge. She’d completely forgotten about volunteering to go to the kindergarten aquarium trip. “Shi- shoot,” she says.  
Lucy giggles sleepily.  
Harley puts Lucy back in her own bed once she’s dropped off and goes back to her room to think. She thinks about Joe and the fact that he’s still creeping about in her daughter’s dreams, in the sanctity of her little mind. She thinks about him and when she unclenches her fists, bright rows of red half moons greet her, dug into her palms. 

The next morning, Lucy’s up bright and early, munching on a bowl of Froot Loops in the kitchen when Harley staggers in dead to the world until she’s had her caffeine fix. The kettle is slow to boil and the instant coffee is pretty much just brown energy liquid, but on their budget she can’t afford a proper coffee grinder.  
Once they’re both showered and dressed with their packed lunches in hand, Lucy and Harley wait for the bus, stomping in all the puddles in their matching light up shoes. When it arrives, the bus driver barely looks at their tickets before sliding the doors shut and flooring it - luckily, as they are both used to it, they both reach for the pole in time and do not get deposited onto the floor. When the bus stops again, they find seats and play “I Spy” until they reach the school and get off. 

Inside the kindergarten classroom, Miss Isley is wearing a green t-shirt with _GO GREEN FOR GOTHAM_ printed on it and black jeans with a flower hairclip in her voluminous red hair. Harley is sulkily forced to admit she looks fantastic. Miss Isley greets Lucy with a big smile and a pencil and clipboard with a worksheet on it, and turns to Harley to say hi.  
Harley mentally adds, _‘suspiciously friendly and good-looking’_ to her list.  
After taking attendance, Miss Isley and her (also suspiciously good-looking) assistant teacher Mr Kent round up all the kids and the three other parent volunteers onto the school bus and head off to the aquarium. Lucy shoots off to go and sit with her little friends so Harley is left between sitting next to the broad-shouldered Mr Kent who is honest to god humming Miss American Pie under his breath, or Miss Isley who is sitting face turned to the window, all sultry like she’s in a movie. Mr Kent it is, apparently. And not because sitting by him gives her a better vantage point to take in Miss Isley’s high, perfect cheekbones and freckled features. No sirree.

Halfway to the city aquarium, the bus gets stuck in traffic.  
Harley sneaks a peek at Miss Isley smiling and checking on the children and types out ‘level headed in a crisis’ onto her list. Mr Kent turns to her excitably, like a great big labrador. “Are you making a list of things you can see? That’s just swell!” Harley is pretty sure her eyes bug out of her head slightly as she mouths _“Swell?”_  
Luckily, Mr Kent doesn’t seem to notice, turning to the kids happily. “Let’s play I-Spy, guys!” He announces, as if being stopped in traffic is the most fun he’s ever had. Harley gets the feeling that the man is always like this, despite the short time she’s had in his company.  
Soon the children are busy calling out the names of things they can see - it tends to just be “Car!” or “Bus!” but there are a few odd gems such as “Sleepy!” aimed at one of the volunteer dads passed out asleep next to his daughter and “Pretty!” rightfully aimed at Miss Isley. Annoyingly pretty, Harley thinks. After another ten minutes, the traffic begins to disperse and they’re back on track to reach the aquarium. By this time, the children have grown bored of I-Spy, and Harley can hear Lucy’s little voice pipe up from somewhere behind her. She’s telling a Mr Fidget story, apparently, with a little artistic licence. Mr Fidget has never been able to fly as far as she knows, anyway.  
Harley smiles and closes her eyes.  
When she opens them, the kids’ shrieks of delight tell her that they’ve arrived. 

Before they get off the bus, Miss Isley tells everyone the rules: buddy up, don’t wander too far from the group without a teacher or parent, and be sure to write down some fun fish facts to discuss in class tomorrow. It’s pretty cute, and Harley stealthily jots down _‘very good with kids’_ on her _Things That Are Suspicious About Miss Isley_ note. To be fair, being good with kids isn’t really suspicious but it’s another factor into Miss Isley’s weird level of perfection, so it still counts as evidence. 

In the foyer, Mr Kent and Miss Isley hand out _‘I visited Gotham City Aquarium!’_ stickers and Harley watches transfixed. A little hand finds hers and she looks down to see Lucy staring up at her determinedly with her wide grey eyes. “You’re looking at Miss Isley a lot,” the little girl whispers, mildly accusingly. “Is something wrong, mommy?”  
Harley schools her face into a less intense expression and smiles as reassuringly as she can at her daughter. “Nah, jellybean. I was just thinkin’ about something else.”  
Lucy looks at her worriedly. “Do I gotta ring the doctor lady again?”  
Harley sighs. “No, baby. And remember, it’s ‘do I have ta’, not ‘do I gotta’.”  
One of Lucy’s friends, a tiny little girl in a stripy yellow top trots over shyly, ducking her head.  
She looks like a little bee, Harley thinks fondly.  
“Hi, Mrs Lucy’s mommy,” She says, hiding behind her braids. “Can I be in your group?”  
Harley beams. “Of course, sweetheart.”  
Lucy surges forward and gives the new arrival a hug that nearly lifts the girl off the ground; something warm and protective surges in Harley’s chest and she feels a little lighter.  
She glances around and sees a few other kids without groups and waves them over with her best most welcoming smile. Some of them are clearly shy but make their way over anyway; everyone seems to know Lucy well.  
Mr Kent waves his clipboard to get everyone’s attention and calls out, “Adults, if you could gather a group of five and then head towards the main entrance! Thanks!”  
Miss Isley is beside him looking all amused and Harley suddenly thinks vividly about tasting that little smirk. _Shit,_ she thinks vehemently, and adds _**‘Magic pheromones???’**_ to the list. 

When they get into the actual aquarium and are allowed to split into their designated groups, Lucy and her little team tug Harley straight to the touch pool and begin running their little hands over the backs of the rays circling idly in the tank. “Touch em gently,” instructs Harley when a little boy pets a bit too hard. He looks up at her for guidance and she strokes the velvety back of one of the creatures carefully to show him. “See?” She says and he giggles as a fish noses at his fingers inquisitively. 

They head to the other tanks, filling in their worksheets.  
Harley doodles on the back of a spare bit of paper and fills the page with fish sketches. Suddenly, Miss Isley appears at her side. “Do you draw, Ms Quinzel?” She asks, dimpling prettily. “Huh- what? No,” Says Harley, flustered. “I just like to do cartoons. This li’l shrimp here,” She tugs on one of Lucy’s pigtails. “She’s way better at drawing than me, she actually sees tha shapes and shadows and shi- stuff. Aintcha, munchkin?” Lucy beams up at them, showing off her jellyfish drawing. “The moon jellyfish is my favourite, Miss Isley!”  
“That’s wonderful, Lucy, you’re very gifted - your mother’s right.” She directs a soft smile at Harley. “We can add everyone’s drawings to the art wall when we get back to school!”  
She adjusts her glasses and goes to talk to some of the other little kids in the group, praising their drawing efforts enthusiastically. Privately, Harley thinks none of them have anything on Lucy’s skills, but every parent thinks their kids are the best, don’t they? 

She goes to sit with the shy girl - Bella, Lucy had said in conversation - who had first joined the group.  
“What’s your favourite fish?” She asks conversationally, offering the kid a bright grin.  
Still painfully shy, the little girl ducks her head, biting her lip. “I like sharks.” She whispers.  
“Whoa, really?” Harley says. “When I was your age I was scared stiff a’ sharks. What do ya like about them?”  
The little girl shrugs and looks away, tucking a braid behind her ear. “I like. I like, um, that they move quietly. They’re big, but quiet.”  
Harley nods thoughtfully at that. Then, she looks at Bella again. “Shall we find ya some cool sharks to write some facts about, then?”  
She gathers up the small bunch and they skip to the shark section, chattering to themselves.  
“Don’t bang on the glass, kids,” Harley says. “It’ll give all the fish a headache.”  
One small boy lowers his fist looking guiltily up at her. She winks playfully. “Okay, come on, let’s do some drawings and gather some funky fresh facts.”  
“Moooom!” giggles Lucy. “No one says that.”  
Harley pretends to look very sad. “Okay, just gather some normal facts then.”  
Lucy giggles again, bright and happy, and scoots off with her posse to the main tank, clipboards and crayons at the ready.  
Only Bella remains, staring up at Harley with her big brown eyes.  
“What’s up, chickadee?” She says warmly, smiling at the little girl.  
Bella shuffles over. “They’re a bit big.” She says sorrowfully.  
Harley moves over so that there’s space on the bench for the kid to climb up, too.  
“You mean the sharks? Are they bigger than ya expected, Bells?”  
Bella worries her lip, looking down.  
Harley sits up straight, offering her a hand.  
“Do you wanna go over to the tank together or just sit here and draw em? You can still get a good angle from here if you don’t wanna get closer.”  
Bella takes her hand apprehensively. “I think… I wanna stay here?”  
Harley pats her little head with her free hand. “That’s fine, kiddo. Let’s do some drawing.”

Soon, it’s lunchtime, and the kids all head outside and into the sun, chattering and cheering. Miss Isley makes everyone go and wash their hands, one group at a time, and they head to the picnic benches where Mr Kent has spread out a few tablecloths. Harley thinks it’s partially because the man’s just like that but mostly to hide the kids from all the explicit graffiti. _Can’t have nothin’ nice in Gotham!_ She thinks, wryly.  
Everyone starts eating their lunches and Lucy immediately starts giving her carrot sticks to her friends citing that, “Mommy says they’re deli-shus and noo-trishus. I think they’re just yucky.” Harley pretends not to hear that, and opens the other little girl in the group’s juicebox for her. The two boys are engaged in a passionate conversation about _Pokémon_ which is sweet, because she used to collect the cards as a kid. 

After lunch, they all show Miss Isley and Mr Kent some of their best drawings - two of the other parents are forced to admit that they didn’t think _they_ were meant to do the drawings and so hadn’t, but the sleepy young dad from the bus holds up a whole portfolio of very detailed fish sketches, grinning ruefully. Lian, the little girl she helped with the juicebox, beams at Harley. “That’s my daddy,” She says, proud. 

Soon, it’s time to go back. Mr Kent helps load up the bus with backpacks while Miss Isley comforts the children who are desperate to stay, promising there will be another day out if everyone is on their best behaviour. Before long, the bus is crawling through traffic again and Lian’s dad is snoozing in the seat beside Harley. The poor guy looks younger than her by about three or four years and must have some rough work hours, judging by the inability to sit down for more than ten minutes without falling asleep. When the bus stops in the schoolyard he jolts awake, red hair sticking up at all angles. Harley tries not to smile at the wild-eyed parental panic look on his face. She’s seen it in the mirror more than a few times before. 

Once Miss Isley makes sure no one was left behind, the kids hop off the bus and scatter into the schoolyard to find their parents.  
Lian’s dad staggers off the bus, daughter in tow. Harley looks for Lucy and finds her outside the bus, laughing with her friends.  
As she gets off the bus to join them, Miss Isley appears at her side silently again. Harley makes a mental note to add _‘teleportation’_ to her list.  
“I just wanted to say you were great with the kids today,” Miss Isley says, and touches her elbow. “You were a real help.”  
Harley stares, feeling her face heating up. “No problem,” she croaks out. “I love kids.”  
“Will you sign up for the next trip?” Miss Isley asks earnestly. “It’s not going to be for another month or two, we’re still sorting out the details. We always need volunteers to help  
out.”  
“Sounds groovy,” Harley says, and instantly regrets everything. It’s like Miss Isley has the power to make her embarrass herself via elbow touching magic. That’s one for the list.  
Miss Isley doesn’t look especially bothered by out of date awful slang, but she does have to spend a lot of time with Mr Swell himself, so maybe she’s just immune.  
“That’s brilliant, Ms Quinzel! I’ll see you tomorrow.” And she’s off, probably to touch elbows with and thank the other parent volunteers.  
Harley hates that the image of Miss Isley touching other people’s elbows makes her feel some kind of way. She’s not quite sure what the feeling is, but it’s there, bubbling away in the pit of her stomach. “Christ,” She says and rubs her forehead, frustrated.  
Soon, Lucy bounds up to her.  
“Ready to go?” Harley asks, going for the least forced looking smile she can.  
“Yeah, mommy.” Lucy takes her hand and they walk to the bus stop.


	2. soup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pamela tries to flirt. harley is oblivious. lucy schemes to try and get another mommy. there is soup involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if i horribly butchered the recipe for matzah balls. i've only made them a couple of times and that was years ago, so i might have forgotten some key ingredients. it's not really relevant to the story, just a vague guilt lmao
> 
> also!! craig of the creek is such a cute kids show i love it so much

When Harley picks Lucy up from Kindergarten the next day, she’s late: straight from the garage, filthy and out of breath. Lucy is the last to be picked up and is sitting with her colouring book looking very unimpressed. Miss Isley is sitting down beside her wearing a mustard yellow sweater and dungarees, looking perfect and pristine and so sexy it makes Harley even sweatier. “Sorry,” she says, catching her breath.

Miss Isley looks up and gives her a warm smile.

“Oh, hi Ms Quinzel,” she replies, still smiling. “Lucy said you might be a bit late. It wasn’t a problem. Luckily, I had some marking to do for a friend, she teaches at the middle school.”

“Uh. Sorry still,” Harley says, still sweating. “Call me Harley, no one calls me Ms Quinzel.”

Miss Isley beams at her like she’s been given a rare treat rather than just the opportunity to use someone’s first name. _Maybe she’s an alien_ , Harley thinks. _Hey, that’s one for the list._

“Then you should call me Pamela,” Miss Isley - _Pamela_ \- demurs running her hands through her hair in a very distracting way. Harley frowns and looks away. _It must be the magic pheromones._ “Anyway, Luce an’ I have a dance class to get to. Sorry to have taken up your time Miss, uh. Pamela. See ya tomorrow.” It may have been her imagination, but Harley thought that Pamela looked a bit disappointed as they left. Still, there was no time to think about that now. They had a bus to catch.

The ballet teacher gives her a dirty look when they walk in and Harley hurries Lucy out of her coat and into her little tutu. Luckily, Lucy is sensible and had gotten changed into her leotard while she was waiting for Harley. They’re only two minutes late to be fair, but the ballet teacher is very traditional and proudly French and had taken an immediate dislike to Harley, who’d made the brilliant first impression of being twenty minutes late to pick up Lucy with ketchup all over her face. In her defence, the hot dog stand outside is just the best she’s ever had anywhere. There was no way she could have resisted.

In order to avoid temptation this time, Harley stays and watches all the way through the ballet class and claps at all the best bits, despite the look of _‘I will actually murder you if you don’t stop’_ coming from Madame Whatshername’s steely eyes. Afterwards, they get hot dogs from the vendor and get the bus home, Harley giving Lucy a piggyback from the bus stop to their apartment.

Once inside, Harley puts _Craig of the Creek_ on for Lucy and jumps into the shower, watching in satisfaction as the day’s grime sluices away. She wipes off her makeup, gets into her ratty but oh so comfy pyjamas and hops onto the couch with Lucy, grabbing her and putting her on her lap for a snuggle. They watch in a comfortable silence for a while, and then Lucy pipes up. “Why don’t you like Miss Isley, mommy?”

Harley startles. “Um! I don’t… Not like her…”

Lucy narrows her eyes, which on an adult might look menacing, but on a five year old is just painfully sweet. “You don’t talk to her!” She says, with a hint of a pout. “An’ you talk to everyone. You’re nice to everyone but not her. Dontcha like her?”

“I…” Harley sighs. “I don’t know, Luce.”

“She likes you!” Lucy says, shrilly. Whenever she gets upset, her voice goes up an octave. _Time to take the emotion down a notch,_ Harley thinks. “Miss Isley is very nice, I jus’ don’t know her very well. Is that okay?”

Lucy suddenly looks shifty and Harley thinks _oh no, oh shit._ That look never means good things. Then she backtracks a little because: “Wait, she likes me? Did she say that?”

The shifty look is gone and Lucy smiles. “Yes! She thinks you don’t like her though! You’re always runnin’ away from her, she says.”

“Hmm,” Says Harley thoughtfully. They watch another episode in silence.

She makes soup for dinner, using up all the veggies in their tiny fridge. She’s a lousy cook, but soup is one of the few things that she can manage, because it’s pretty easy. Since Lucy, she’s been eating less crap and drinking more water and even though she hates vegetables, she has to thank them for how clear they’ve made her skin. Besides, she and Lucy have junk food Fridays, so it’s not like she’s cut it out completely.

They sit on the couch and eat ‘vegetable surprise’ soup and watch cartoons until seven thirty, and then Harley puts Lucy to bed, reading her a chapter of _The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe._ Lucy opens her drooping eyes as wide as she can and begs for another chapter, and Harley starts reading again, smiling knowingly when Lucy drops off to sleep almost instantly.

Then, she goes to her own room, opens her battered laptop and searches up Pamela Isley. Immediately up pops: _Did you mean Dr Pamela Isley?_ And there on the screen is a picture of Miss Isley with dark brown hair and no glasses or smile, but it’s unmistakeably her. She looks at the results with interest. _Gifted Student Pamela Isley Wins Psychology Scholarship_ boasts the first. Then, _Dr Pamela Isley: Genius Child Psychologist_. Further down and more dramatic: _Dr Pamela Isley Throws It All Away!_ She clicks on the last one, fascinated. The writer is one Dr Jason Woodrue, apparently a former colleague of Miss/Dr Isley’s. At first he talks about _wasted potential_ and _scientific brilliance_ but soon the page, a blog of some sort, turns into angry and sexist ramblings. “Yikes,” She says, closing the webpage. She goes onto the school website and searches for her. Sure enough, there’s a smiling picture of Dr Isley, with red hair and her sweet nerdy glasses. She makes a note of it on her list, spinning in her chair thoughtfully. “Well, well, well. Turns out there is a case afoot!” Sherlock Holmes who? Harley’s on it.

When she takes Lucy to school the next day it’s with a little posy of flowers that Lucy picked on their way to the bus stop. It’s just a little collection of daisies and those little whatsits that grow between the bricks on walls, but Pamela smiles like Lucy’s fetched her the moon, carefully putting them in a little mug of water like she has the whole world in her elegant hands. Harley resolves to make her smile like that. This time she doesn’t blame it on magic pheromones or alien powers (although it just might be). She just wants to give Pamela that look of joy. It hurts in her chest a bit, the depth of feeling. She wants to ignore the emotion but Pamela turns that blinding beautiful smile on her and she’s lost in it. _What the actual fuck_ , she thinks. Time for more investigation.

On her lunch break, she catches her manager Shona in her office, about to take a bite from a large chocolate muffin. “Thought you was on a diet?” She calls. Shona nearly drops both the muffin and the paper coffee cup she has in her other hand, cursing violently. She rights the cup and places both on the desk in front of her and narrows her eyes. “Whatcha after, Quinzel?” She reaches for her coffee and takes a sip, grimacing.

Harley bats her eyes innocently. “Jus’ wanted to see my super-duper manager!”

Shona’s lip curls in disgust. “Jeez, laying it on a bit thick. What do you want?”

Harley flounces over and flops into the chair on the other side of the desk.

“Soooo,” She says. “You know that you’re a massive lesbian?”

Her manager rolls her eyes, muttering _“Give me strength,”_ under her breath. “I am aware of that, yes,” She replies at a normal volume.

Harley toys with one of the desk trinkets and Shona snatches it back, glaring. She grins back sheepishly. “I wanted some advice,” She tells her. “I ain’t dated any girls since my first year of college, and there’s this lady. She’s real classy.”

“Then what’s she going to want with you, rustbucket?” Shona retorts, but there’s a unusual amount of fondness in her tone.

“That’s what I dunno! I thought she might be an alien at first so I was investigatin’ her,” Shona puts her face in her hands and sighs loudly. “But then my kid said that she’s been trying to get me to talk to her and I’ve noticed she gets all sad if I don’t talk to her!”

“You mean to tell me that you’re so oblivious that you can’t figure out whether you like someone or if they’re a goddamn extra-terrestrial, and only your five year old could convince you that you might be wrong? Girl, I can’t help you. You’re dumb as shit.”

“I resent that,” Harley says sulkily. “I almost gotta PhD.”

She perks up at that. “Hey did I tell you she’s actually got a PhD? She’s a _doctor_. Lemme Google her for ya real quick.”

Shona sighs heavily, but leans in to see the picture Harley brings up on her screen with interest. “Okay,” She says finally. “You picked a looker. Send her my way if things don’t work out, huh? And just get her flowers or something, dumbass! It’s not that hard!”

So when Harley picks up Lucy at home time she makes sure she’s not greasy from work and brings a bright clutch of flowers. They’re only grocery store flowers so they’re not especially exciting, but Harley figures its the thought that counts. There’s different colours and kinds though, so that has to be pretty good.

When she thrusts them into Pamela’s hands, deeply self-conscious, she sees Lucy and her little girl gang giggling a little way away. She feels her face flood with heat and looks away from Pamela’s questioning gaze. “They’re, uh, for you, Miss Isley,” She stammers. “I mean Dr Isley! Wait, no, I mean Pamela.” Pamela’s eyebrows shoot up. “Sorry,” Harley continues. She’s lucky the rest of the parents have taken their kids or are in the process of taking their kids home. “I Googled you, I was curious. Sorry.”

Pamela says nothing at first, holding the flowers carefully to her chest. Then she sighs and looks up, smiling. “It’s alright Ms Quinzel. Sorry, Harley I mean,” She says, shaking her head. She looks almost as nervous as Harley feels. “I’m terrible at remembering who I’m on a first name basis with.”

Harley sends her a hopeful grin. “So… Do you have anything on now?”

It turns out, she doesn’t.

Harley helps pack several heavy looking bound books into Pamela’s sensible teal backpack _(Are they spellbooks? How do they all fit? She must be a little bit magical)_ and they set off to her tiny Skoda. “It’s not very glamorous,” says Pamela, cheerfully. “But it’s so much more environmentally friendly!” She holds the door open, and helps Lucy strap into the child’s seat that’s already in the back. Harley raises an eyebrow. “Do you have kids, Pamela? And can I call you Pam?”

Pamela flushes darker in a lovely spread along her cheekbones. “Oh, um, yes you can,” She says, still blushing. “And I don’t have children myself, but sometimes one of the little ones needs a ride to school and it’s useful for bringing plants home. I always feel awful when I drop them; soil goes everywhere, poor things. I’d love to have kids someday though,” She looks at Harley from under her lashes. “With the right woman.”

Harley wonders if Pamela could possibly be flirting, but immediately dismisses that thought. The lady is clearly just pleased to have an adult friend to talk to.

“Yeah,” She says, grinning back as charmingly as possible. “Shouldn’t be a problem findin’ you a ladyfriend.”

Pamela blushes again, and wordlessly holds open the passenger door for Harley to get in.

Lucy asks for the radio, and Dinah Washington’s voice floods from the speakers. Harley puts on her seatbelt and checks to see if Lucy’s managed to do hers up successfully. “Ready to go?” Pamela calls, putting on her driving glasses. It’s deeply cute that she has so many pairs. Harley’s so far seen her normal glasses, her reading glasses and her driving glasses. She wonders if in the summer, she wears prescription sunglasses or just stacks her sunglasses on top, like Harley’s ma used to do. She smiles at the idea of it.

“Yeah!” Shouts Lucy from the back, kicking her little feet. Harley winces, hoping the little shrimp won’t leave any scuff marks on the backs of Pam’s seats, but Pamela just adjusts the rear-view mirror and smiles widely. “Okay, let’s go!” She says. Turning to Harley, she adds, “You’ll have to give me some directions though.”

Harley directs her, watching her face carefully for any prejudice or disgust when they pull into the safest parking lot near her apartment. It’s not like they live in the Narrows or anything, but they definitely don’t live in the the Diamond District, either. It’s kind of shabby and grey looking on the outside, but Pamela says nothing, and if she has any doubts her poker face is masterful. They take the elevator, each holding one of Lucy’s hands. Lucy tugs Pamela’s hand insistently and she crouches down obediently to listen to the little girl. “Thank you for comin’ to see us, Miss Isley,” Lucy whispers, in that way young children do where they’re talking at a normal volume, but in a whispered tone. It’s terribly precious, and Harley looks away to hide her smile. Of course she agrees. She’s very pleased that she gets to spend time with and probably also investigate the woman some more.

The elevator dings, and they step out into the grey corridor. Harley’s not embarrassed because it’s clean enough, and she knows that her apartment is tidy because she went absolutely wild with the spring cleaning the week previously. She lets go of Lucy’s hand to unlock the door and sees Pamela twirling her by the hand in her peripheral vision. She smiles despite herself, and pushes open the door to let them both in. Inside, she fetches Lucy a juicebox and brings Pamela and herself two glasses of cold water, apologising for the lack of ice. Pamela gives her a little pleased grin and says it’s no bother, and can she do anything to help? Harley says no and Lucy drags Pamela to their couch and curls up in her lap, settling herself comfortably into her chest. _Atta girl_ , thinks Harley.

“Whatcha want for dinner, Luce?” She calls, hoping the answer will be something she can actually make.

“Matzah!” Yells Lucy. Pamela is carefully brushing her hair for her and for a minute Harley thinks her heart might stop because it’s so shockingly natural, having Pam in the house. She looks perfect up there with Lucy in her lap, almost as if she were part of the family. Harley shakes those thoughts away and goes into the kitchen to check the fridge for eggs and milk. “Any intolerances or dietary things I should know about?” She asks, leaning on the doorframe. “No,” Pamela says, turning to look at her. “I eat most things.”

Harley shivers a little at the intensity of her gaze but nods and heads back into the kitchen, getting out her ma’s old matzah ball recipe. _Magic pheromones,_ she thinks determinedly. _It’s got to be the magic pheromones._ When she’s finished making the matzah mixture, she wraps the bowl in cling film and puts it in the fridge, taking out the chicken as she does so. She’s glad Selina encouraged her to start buying a variety of stuff at the grocery store, so she doesn’t end up just making the same thing all the time, a.k.a soups and pot roasts. That’s pretty much all she can make.

She starts the soup process, and leaves it on a low heat, going back into the other room.

Pamela is helping Lucy draw a picture, of a whale, maybe? Harley can’t quite see.

It’s cute though, and it’s nice to see that Pam’s always patient and kind, not just at the school where she has to be. Harley checks her phone. It’s a little bit past four p.m and the soup will take about two hours to do, so she has plenty of time.

She sits down on the opposite end of the couch and Lucy reaches over, pulling her snugly into Pam’s side. Harley sits up pin-straight until Pamela casually reaches over and puts her arm over Harley’s shoulder and then she relaxes, breathing in Pamela’s soft floral scent.

Lucy carries on drawing, and Pamela guides her. Harley sits, panics and overthinks.

Finally, the timer she’d set shrills out of her phone and she untangles herself and dashes into the kitchen. The stock is pretty much done, so she starts chopping vegetables trying to get her heart rate settled. After a few minutes, Pamela seems to materialise silently into the room and Harley nearly jumps out of her skin. “Sorry,” She says ruefully, hands clasped together. “Can I help out? Lucy’s watching a cartoon.”

Harley makes room for her and hands over the other chopping board and a few carrots.

They cut up the vegetables in companionable quiet, looking up and smiling at each other every so often. Harley’s not sure what it is but she hasn’t felt this relaxed with someone in forever. Actually she does know what it is. The goddamn magic pheromones.

Still, Pam’s sweet. Even if she is a magical creature. She’d like to see where this goes, to be honest, even if she winds up dating some kind of eldritch being.

Once the soup is ready, they bring the bowls through to the main room and Lucy bounces over to have a look. Pamela clears the table and places the bowls down while Harley lays out the cutlery. Lucy sits at the table beaming, a manic glint in her eye. That look usually means she’s scheming, and Harley tries not to think about what it could be about.

Lucy chatters as she eats (a habit Harley is very much trying to put a stop to) and Pamela looks charmed, even when the little girl drops her spoon and broth sprays everywhere.

Harley rushes to the kitchen to grab some kitchen roll and frantically dabs at the soup stains on Pamela’s sensible green blazer before realising that she’s just sort of rubbing a paper towel on her left breast and drops the tissue in alarm. Pamela’s only reaction is to smile sort of slyly and take her blazer off, folding it over one arm as she answers Lucy’s question about rainforests. She’s wearing a sort of strappy white camisole underneath with a red bra strap peeking out and Harley has to fake a desperate need to use the bathroom in order to collect herself. It’s kind of pathetic is what it is. Harley remembers deliberately breaking dress code in school in protest, thinking how illogical and stupid the argument that a simple bra strap could distract someone from their education. It’s still a stupid illogical argument, but here she is eleven or so years later completely stunned because a she saw a pretty lady’s bra strap. _Oh how the turns have tabled, or some shit._

She manages to go back in after about five minutes and Pamela is filling up a hot water bottle, instructing Lucy to never ever touch one while it’s still hot, or to try and make one herself until she was much older. Pamela presents it to her and fishes some ibuprofen out of her trusty teal rucksack. “I used to get awful cramps,” She says by way of explanation, genuinely sympathetic. “These always used to help.”

_Well, fuck._ Harley thinks. _At least she didn’t assume I shit myself._

She takes the hot water bottle and puts the pills on the table, nodding her thanks.

“C’mon, then,” She says to Lucy. “We can watch two more episodes of _Craig_ or we can have a story, and then it’s bed time, jellybean, ‘kay?”

Lucy, tired out from the day, can’t decide and shouts and stamps her little feet in frustration.

“Why are you upset, Lucy?” Pamela says, kneeling down beside her. “Deep breaths now.”

To Harley’s surprise, the red starts fade from Lucy’s cheeks and she takes a little hiccupy breath. “Want,” She hiccups, face blotchy and tear-streaked. “Want both.”

“Why don’t we watch one episode of the cartoon and have a half a chapter?” Lucy looks like she’s going to yell again and Pamela’s face goes steely. “I mean it,” She says. “You can do what your mommy said and choose or you can have a little bit of each but you can’t have both. What will it be?”

After a few minutes of the little girl crying and hiccuping, Pamela has Lucy curled up on her lap again, her small face still pink and blotchy but her attention fixed on the screen. Pamela pats the seat beside her and Harley sits down, astonished. “Can I hire you permanently?” She says, awed.

“Maybe,” Pamela replies, planting a kiss behind the shell of her ear gently, waiting for her reaction. Harley grins helplessly back at her, and reaches for her hand. “I’d like that,” She says. _Goddamn, but those magic pheromones are strong._


	3. possibilities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> harley vs public transport

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the gang of harleys make a brief appearance because i love them.  
> clark kent is a big dumb sweetheart.

Pamela doesn’t spend the night.

She carries Lucy slumbering on her shoulder into her bedroom and attentively smooths away the hair from the little girl’s brow before tucking her in. Then she picks up her soup stained blazer and her rucksack and walks to the door. She types her number into Harley’s offered phone and smiles like she’s had the best of times, dark skin glowing. She looks ethereal even under the cheap flickery corridor lights. _She might be an angel._

Harley kisses her goodbye; a chaste brush of lips that threatens to heat swiftly so she steps back before she would like, cheeks flushed, and watches Pamela’s progress all the way to the elevator. She goes to bed feeling thoroughly warm.

In the morning, Lucy divebombs her awake, which is always slightly painful but the joy on her daughter’s little face after she does it is too infectious to tell her to quit it. “Morning, munchkin,” Harley grumbles, tickling the little girl’s sides in revenge. “Did ya have to wake mommy up like that? I was havin’ a real nice dream.”

Lucy shrieks with delight and kicks her legs up in the air, rolling around and making a valiant effort to get away. “Stop it, mommy!” She giggles. Harley stops, picking her up and depositing her into her lap. Lucy wraps her little arms around Harley’s middle and looks up at her, smiling. Harley looks at her wide grey eyes and holds her a bit tighter instinctively. She knows she would love Lucy no matter what, but she’s particularly glad that the little girl didn’t inherit the flinty pale green eyes of her father. Pamela’s got green eyes, but hers are different. They’re warm and bright, with a ring of warm honeyed brown around the edge of the iris. Harley sighs happily. “Thanks for gettin’ me to talk to Pamela,” She says, tugging on the ends of one of Lucy’s pigtails. “Your Miss Isley, I mean. She’s nice, you were right.”

Lucy gets that sneaky look on her face again. “I _knew_ you liked her,” She says, just a little too smugly. Harley ruffles her hair. “Yeah, yeah. Time for school, jellybean.”

When Harley drops Lucy off at the kindergarten, Mr Kent gives her a thumbs up and the biggest grin she’s ever seen. Soon, Pamela bustles into the room with a child in one arm and a stack of abacuses in the other. Upon seeing Harley, she puts both down carefully and smiles like a sunbeam. “Harley,” She says warmly, and Harley smiles back as her heart does a series of complicated gymnastics moves in her chest. “Hey, Pam,” She replies. “I’ve gotta go, but I’ll see ya later when I pick up Luce.”

“Sure,” Pamela says, still smiley. “Thanks for the flowers, by the way. I tried to re-pot them with a little rooting powder but sadly I doubt it’ll take.”

Harley makes a mental note of that and vows to only buy her potted flowers in future.

“Aw, shoot,” She says. “Better luck next time?” She takes what is probably a bit too much pleasure out of the way Pamela’s eyes sparkle upon hearing the words ‘next time’.

Unfortunately, she has to go though or else she’ll be late, so she hugs Lucy goodbye, winks at Pamela and returns Mr Kent’s wave on her way out.

She walks out to the bus stop outside school and waits, checking her _Adventure Time_ watch and the fading bus timetable. She doesn’t have to wait long; the bus hunkers into the stop like the old lump of junk it is and she gets her ticket out ready. As usual, the bus driver barely looks at her ticket before letting her on and flooring it. She stands and looks out of the grimy window, wondering when Wayne Enterprises will splash some cash in the direction of public transport. To be fair to them, the CEO Tim Drake-Wayne is barely the legal drinking age and he’s already helped fix up the hospitals, Robinson Park and a lot of housing. _Good kid_ , Harley thinks. But the buses and subways often reek of piss and stale armpits, and sometimes the drivers are quite obviously just plants from the mob. Usually, the fake mob bus drivers are better at it than the actual certified ones, to be fair to them.

A man across the aisle leers at her with yellowed teeth and she glares in return. He steps back a bit, looking rightfully worried. Good.

She gets out her phone and continues making her investigation list.

**_ **Possibilities** _ **

  * _She’s an angel_ ****



_Pros: She likes children and plants; angels love all living things._

_Cons: Might be a deadly celestial weapon and also I’m an atheist._

  * _She’s an alien_ ****



_Pros: Makes me feel strange. Good strange though. ALSO. Has a secret past - not of this world??_

_Cons:_ _~~Might probe me ;)~~ _ _Government could be after her - dangerous to Luce?_

  * _She’s a cupid_ ****



_Pros: Explains the magic pheromones. Explains why I want to lick her collarbone._

_Cons: Might shoot me with an arrow._ **_**Hate it** _ ** _when people try and do that._

She looks up from adding _‘Could be some kind of Studio Ghibli type friendly spirit’_ to find that the man has come closer and is looming over her, grinning nastily. Harley sighs. “Whatcha want, creep?” She says, annoyed. He reaches over to touch her hair and she grabs his wrist and twists it until she hears a sickening crack. The man yells in shock and pain, stumbling backwards into the bus window on the opposite side of the aisle.

“You bitch!” He howls, clutching his injured wrist in his other hand. “You’ll fucking pay for that.” And he lunges forwards clumsily, reaching for her. Harley neatly side steps him and puts her phone back into her bedazzled fanny pack, zipping it carefully as he crashes into the floor. His nose begins to bleed sluggishly and she looks out of the window to gauge where they are. “Ooh, it’s my stop,” She says, stepping over the groaning man and moving to the very front of the bus. The bus driver gives her a grudgingly impressed look and stops the bus, driving in carefully rather than the usual tyre screeching halt Gotham City buses tend to opt for. “You have a good day now, Miss.” The driver says, tiredly. As soon as she’s stepped onto the pavement though, the bus is hurtling off. There’s a bit of blood on her shirt and she flicks at it with her nail, irritated.

Once she gets into work she changes into her faded black uniform overalls and heads over to where her two of her co-workers are squabbling over a classic Corvette, Erica wildly waving a screwdriver while Harvey folds his arms and scowls down at her. The rest are either busy, or out of the way. Carlita is bent over the hood of a battered old Prius and Holly’s wheeling over with a tray of coffees balanced on her lap. Harley shrugs and carries on with the job she’d been working on the day before, fixing some asshole’s truck. Who even drives a truck in the city? What’s the point of it? Either way, there’s something really strange about the engine, like it had been running on some other fuel than diesel but hadn’t quite been able to manage it. Cursing all the assholes that decide to make her life difficult under her breath, she puts on her goggles and gets to work on the engine.

By the time she takes her lunch break her shift is almost over, meaning it’s almost time to pick up Lucy, and by extension, see Pamela. She heads to Shona’s office again, knocks and waits, nodding cheerfully at Antonia who comes out with a pile of paperwork.

“If that’s you Quinzel, I swear to god,” Shona says, looking up from a pile of assorted parts on her desk. She’s holding a bit of fuel pipe so Harley comes in with her hands up, trying not to grin. Shona sees her and scowls, putting down the pipe with a heavy clunk.

“Oh great lesbian,” Says Harley, failing at her attempt of looking solemn and serious. “Your advice was fab! I’m gettin’ her some more flowers tonight.”

Shona sighs and beckons her over impatiently, brushing her long dark hair out of the way with her free hand. “You can’t just get her flowers over and over,” She says.

Harley wrinkles her nose in puzzlement. “Why not? She likes flowers.”

“Yeah,” Shona says, “But you gotta get her stuff that shows her you know what she likes.”

“She likes flowers though,” Harley says, confused.

Shona groans. “I hate you and this job. If she likes flowers, get her some plants or something. Or a little herb garden. You know, stuff that’s similar?”

Harley’s eyes light up. “Thanks Shona, ya fantastic thing! I’ll get her something cute on my way to the school. You’re a gem!” And she races out of the office, leaving Shona rolling her eyes.

She gets the bus to the grocery store and goes straight to the flower section, bypassing the pretty though slightly limp bouquets and heads to the indoor plants. There are little cacti in pots with funny faces on the side, tall smart shiny leaved plants in glossy ceramic planters and lots of adorable succulents in small metal buckets painted in different colours. She surveys the succulents carefully. There’s a little one with fat green leaves tipped with red, a pale sprouty looking one in a pink container, a dark green one with long round leaves and several others. She subtly swaps the dark green succulent’s lemon yellow pot with the red one’s plain white one and heads to the check out with the little red succulent.

On the bus to the school, the driver from earlier nods at her warily and waves her on. She stands, cradling the tiny plant to her chest and stares dreamily out of the window until they arrive. She walks past the older kids talking and jostling each other down the corridor until she reaches the door that says ‘Miss Isley’s classroom’ in swirling painted cursive with decorations of multicoloured handprints in paint and rainbows, obviously done by the students. She’s a little early, so she watches through the small circular window in the door as Pamela helps the children pack up their things and get ready to leave.

Soon, she has to step back as the door is opened by a small boy who looks surprised to see her, but offers a shy gap-toothed smile anyway. Other parents begin to arrive in the corridor. She recognises Mr Stewart, a tall stern ex-military man who melts into a big softie when his tiny daughter so much as opens her little mouth. There’s Roy, the young dad from the school trip, looking exhausted as always. Cat Grant is there, too. She’s one of Harley’s least favourite of the parents she knows because the woman is an immense gossip, and mostly just downright mean. Cat greets Harley with a tight-lipped smile and she rolls her eyes in return, accidentally catching the laughing eyes of Mr Kent as he makes his way through the gathered parents, a small girl with an ice pack in tow. It’s Bella, she realises, and she calls out, “Hey, Bells!” And gets a watery little smile in return.

Mr Kent ushers Bella into the room, letting go of her little hand once she’s with her friends again. The other parents swarm in, heading for their children and greeting them with smiles and hugs, except for Cat Grant who just grabs her son and drags him out, not bothering with any niceties. Bella’s mom heads into the room and makes a fuss over her, looking at the bruise under the ice pack with concern and kissing her cheek gently.

Mr Kent catches her looking and heads over. “Don’t worry,” He says. “She fell over in the playground and hurt herself, so she’s been in the nurse’s office most of the afternoon.”

“Is she alright?” Harley asks, perturbed.

“Yeah,” Says Mr Kent. “It’s just a little scrape. Nurse patched her up real good.”

Lucy takes that as her opportunity to dash over seizing Harley’s legs in a vice-like hug.

Harley nearly drops the plant. “Hi, chickadee, how was your day?” She says, smiling apologetically at Mr Kent, who she still hasn’t gotten the first name of. He smiles back, untroubled by the interruption. Lucy bursts into frantic chatter about the new sandpit, Lian’s lunch yoghurt exploding ‘cause she squeezed it too hard and the new words she’s learning to spell. Harley hears about half of it but smiles widely and says, “Uh huh,” and “That’s great, jellybean,” at all the moments that sound appropriate. Mr Kent excuses himself and goes off to talk to another parent, and Harley searches for Pamela, finding her busily in conversation with Mr Stewart. Soon, he and the last of the parents leave, and Pamela heads into the teacher’s cupboard to sort out her props for the next day’s lesson plan.

Harley puts the succulent down carefully on a desk and hugs Lucy back properly, inhaling the scent of her strawberry kids’ shampoo. Unexpectedly, tears spring to her eyes and she lets go of her daughter gently. “I’ve just gotta go powder my nose, kiddo,” She says, voice thick, and stumbles out of the room and into the corridor, her chest tight with anxiety. She hasn’t had any kind of attack in months, so it’s a surprise, but she breathes in as deeply as she can and counts to ten. The corridor is blessedly empty; Cat Grant would have a field day, since she already thinks Harley is incapable of taking care of her own child.

She breathes and she counts over and over and her ribs ache.

Presently, Pamela comes out of the classroom and heads over to her.

“Is it alright to touch you?” She says, hand hovering over the small of Harley’s back like she’s desperate to comfort her but carefully restraining herself.

Harley nods jerkily, reaching for her.

Pamela holds her firmly, chest to chest and she breathes evenly as Harley coughs and gasps.

Soon, Harley’s breathing is almost back to normal and she cries unashamedly into Pamela’s shirt, leaving black streaks of mascara and colourful powdery smears of eyeshadow.

Pamela strokes her hair and holds her. “It’ll be alright, darling,” She whispers. “It’ll be alright.” Harley stays there in her arms for a long time before pulling away, shaken. “Who’s looking after Lucy?” She asks, frantically. Her nose is running and with her ruined make-up she probably looks like a scary clown but she’s got to make sure Lucy’s alright.

“Clark is,” Says Pamela, soothingly. “She’s fine but she’s worried about you. Has this happened to you before?”

“Who’s Clark?” Harley says. “I need to check on her, I need to make sure she’s safe.”

Pamela looks at her with concern. “Mr Kent is looking after her, I promise she’s fine. I know he looks like a great big All-American idiot, but he’s very good at his job. He’ll keep her safe.”

Harley breathes out a rush of air, feeling winded. “I still want to make sure she’s alright.”

“And you will be able to,” Pamela continues, pulling a packet of baby wipes out of her bag and dabbing gently at the make-up stains on Harley’s face. “But not looking like this. No offence, sweetheart, but you look like something out of a horror movie.”

Harley takes a wipe and the pocket mirror Pamela takes out of her bag and carefully cleans her face. Pamela’s right about looking scary: she kind of looks like Jigsaw.

“So what was that about?” Pamela asks, stroking her face gently.

“Nothin’,” Harley says, pulling back from her. She winces at the hurt look on Pamela’s face and reaches for her hand, twining their fingers together. “Fine, it wasn’t nothin’, but we’ll talk about it later.”

Pamela nods. “That’s fine by me. Come on.”

They re-enter the classroom to find Lucy playing _Snap_ with Mr Kent, clearly winning if the put upon expression on his face is any indication. The little girl jumps up and runs over to Harley, stopping a little way in front of her, cautiously. “Are you alright, mommy?” She says seriously, her eyes very large in her small face. “Yeah,” Says Harley, reaching for her. “Pam helped me out, you’ve gotta great teacher, huh Luce?”

“Uh-huh,” Says Lucy, nodding solemnly.

“Thanks for lookin’ after Lucy,” Harley says, and Clark rubs his neck with the back of his hand, blushing. “It wasn’t any bother, Ma’am,” he says and Harley feels her soul try desperately to escape her body.

“It’s Harley,” she says, smiling tearily. “Please never call me ‘ma’am’ again, it’s the worst.”

Clark grins sheepishly. “Sure thing.”

He gathers up his coat and rucksack and says goodbye to everyone before leaving, and then it’s just her, Lucy and Pamela. There’s a sudden awkward silence for a minute.

“I brought you a plant,” Says Harley, pointing to the succulent on Pamela’s desk.

“Oh!” Pamela says, delighted. “Thank you so much.”

She looks like she wants to say something else but stops herself, closing her mouth firmly.

Harley quickly changes the subject before she can change her mind about asking about the attack. “It was really good of ya to come over for dinner last night,” She goes with.

“Yeah!” Says Lucy, beaming happily. “Can we do it again soon?”

Pamela looks at them both tenderly and tucks an escaped strand of thick red hair behind her ear. “Well,” She begins. “My house is a little bit on the messy side, but I make a mean chilli, if you’d like to come over tonight…?”

Lucy looks up at her mother, pleading. “Can we? Can we, _please?_ ”

Harley grins. “If Pam says it’s okay, then _absolutely_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> give me a comment because it means i write faster, kudos is great too though.  
> hope you're all staying safe x


	4. in which pamela lives in ikea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pam and harley get closer ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

The drive to Pamela’s house had been surprisingly long.

She lived on the edge of the city, almost bordering Metropolis, in a quaint house covered in trellises woven with yellow roses and ivy. There was a large garden of neatly tended plants, a weathered little shed and a daintily spitting fountain.

“Not ta be rude,” Harley had said, taking in the view. “But how can ya afford to live in a place like this on a teacher’s salary?” The laugh she’d received in return had been gorgeous.

“I couldn’t!” Pamela had replied. “My parents were fairly wealthy, and my dad left me some money when he died. I say were, my mother’s still alive, unfortunately.”

Harley had sensed there was a story there but decided to suppress her curiosity for the time being, instead focusing on ensuring Lucy didn’t run off too far.

Now, in Pamela’s huge kitchen, equipped with a gleamingly clean oven and hob, pale golden wood chairs and warm overhanging lights, Harley feels like she’s stepped straight into an IKEA catalogue. Everything is spotless, like it’s just been fitted.

While she and Lucy stare dumbstruck around the room, Pamela puts the overhead fan on and begins chopping a large white onion, placing the skin in a gleaming trash can.

“ _Wow_ ,” Says Lucy, a tad too loudly. “Even the trash is fancy.”

Pamela looks embarrassed and pleased all at once and Harley tries very hard to commit the resulting blush to memory. She gets out a large pot and and some expensive looking olive oil from one of the pale wooden cabinets and scrapes the onion off the board and into the pan, turning the heat on low. Then she turns around, smiling bashfully.

“So,” She says, tucking an errant red curl behind her ear. “Who wants to help me chop some tomatoes?”

They end up in a row, all three of them, making Pamela’s kitchen feel a little cosier as Harley follows Pam’s lead with the tomatoes and watches her supervise Lucy with a fond smile.

It feels like family, kind of. The good kind of family, not Harley’s screwed up past experiences with the word. It feels welcoming. She hides a smile and carries on slicing.

Soon, the onion pieces in the pan are golden and Pamela adds the fresh tomatoes, as well as some passata from the fridge. She stirs it, humming softly. Lucy tugs at the hem of her shirt to be let up and Harley scoops her up, holding her so that she can see the contents of the pan. The little girl nods approvingly, doing her own spin on a chef’s kiss, which is just placing her finger and thumb together and blowing on them while nodding seriously. Harley cracks up, hugging her tightly. “You’re my funny girl, aintcha Luce?” She says, spinning her affectionately. “Momma’s funny girl.” Pamela watches them from the stove, a touch of something in her eyes that is parts tenderness and desperate hunger. Harley wonders just how lonely she is. She knows Pam quit being a psychologist to be a kindergarten teacher, from her own experience, she’s aware of how snotty academics can be. Maybe her old friends didn’t approve of her career switch? No social person lives out in the middle of nowhere with a barely used kitchen, there’s clearly no dinner parties being thrown. Harley makes a note to ask her later. Not outright ‘do you have any friends’, she’ll aim for subtle.

Soon, Pamela’s adding the final touches of paprika, salt and pepper to the chilli. A pan of white rice steams on the side, ready to be dished out. 

“I usually add a lot more cayenne and chilli, but I was worried about little mouths,” She says, smiling down at Lucy, who’s helping to set the table. “Will you be alright with the big cutlery, sweetheart?” She continues, turning to face the little girl fully. “I have some kids stuff if you’d prefer.” Lucy, never one to back down from a challenge, clutches the cutlery to her chest and shakes her head vehemently. Pamela laughs, head thrown back. Harley stares at the warm length of her neck and feels slightly dizzy. _It’s looking like the alien theory is back in the lead_ , she thinks, licking her lower lip.

They eat chilli and rice with sugar snap peas and corn and Harley is yet again taken aback at how familiar and right it feels for them all to be together around the table and she sneaks her hand under the table to hold Pam’s.

Later, Lucy falls asleep on the soft green couch in the sitting room, which looks more lived in than the rest of the house due to the books strewn casually about and the well used coasters on the coffee table. Harley catches Pamela’s questioning gaze and sighs, moving closer. Pamela puts her arms around her and waits, watching her face carefully.

“Do we have ta talk about this _now?!_ ” Harley blurts out, once the silence becomes too heavy. “I’ve had a real good time tonight and I don’t wanna ruin it.”

Pamela shrugs, and sweeps a hand through her loose curls. “You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to, but I will listen if you decide to.”

Harley stares at her and worries at her lip with her teeth. She thinks about letting Pam in on the whole truth and what that would mean. She turns away.

Pamela says nothing, bending slightly to kiss her forehead and then continuing to just hold her in a loose embrace.

Annoyingly, whatever therapy trick she’s using is working, because Harley’s feeling more and more relaxed the longer she knows she can just stay there in Pam’s arms without saying anything. She gets the impression Pamela never forces anyone into saying or doing anything they aren’t comfortable with, which is definitely more than she can say for her last few therapists, before her current one. She sighs and makes up her mind.

“I’ve gotta problem with my head,” She says. “I’m manic depressive, but they won’t diagnose me as bipolar ‘cause there’s other stuff too. I think it’s co-morbidity but hell, what do I know? I couldn’t even finish the first year of med school.”

Pamela wraps her arms a little tighter but says nothing, she leans down and presses their foreheads together and closes her eyes. Harley tells her about her medication and seeing her therapist twice a week and she doesn’t bat an eye, only nodding speculatively at some parts. Harley thinks about telling her about Joe and hesitates. There’s always next time.

Finally, after a long long time, Pamela speaks again, her voice a little rough.

“It’s late,” She says, and there’s sadness in her eyes as if Harley’s genuinely moved her by chatting about her screwed up head. “I can make up the spare bedroom, or you could sleep with me?”

“God, Pam,” Harley says, cheekily, “I’d love ta sleep with you but there’s a time and a place.”

Pamela darkens and splutters with embarrassment. “I just meant-! You can have my bed, I meant- I-” Harley cuts her off with a kiss.

Pamela leans into it, hands moving to cup Harley’s face, cautious and tender.

“I knew what you meant,” Harley says, drawing back breathless. “I was just teasin’. I’d love ta stay the night, but I’d like to make sure Luce is sorted before I am, if that’s okay.”

Pamela sets the spare room up for Lucy, placing fresh sheets on the bed. Harley carries the little girl in and she doesn’t stir even when they each kiss her goodnight, one on each cheek.

Harley turns off the light and they walk into the hallway, twining their hands together. “Come on,” Pamela whispers as they walk towards her room. “It’s late.”

She opens the door and Harley takes in the many pots of flowers and plants, seeing her succulent placed on the bedside table. Pamela takes off her sweater and folds it, opening a chest of drawers. She pulls out a t-shirt and a pair of shorts and offers them to Harley. “Sorry if they’re a bit big,” Pamela says, adjusting her glasses. “Don’t take this the wrong way but you’re very tiny.”

Harley shrugs, unselfconscious. “My ma’s 5 foot nothin’, at least I’m a little taller than her,”

She grins, advancing on her. “You’re so tall I could climb ya.”

Pamela’s eyes glitter. “I’d like to see you try.”

They meet in the middle in a kiss. At first, Pamela kisses like she teaches, sweet and patient. Then Harley slinks her hands onto her ass and licks hungrily into her mouth and she switches it up, lifting Harley up so she can wrap her legs around her waist and kissing her like she plans to bruise. She leans them against the wall, caging Harley in with her body and nuzzling ferociously at her neck with her cheek. “Is this okay?” She whispers, and her pupils are blown so far there’s only a sliver of green visible. Harley shivers and nods, kissing her back. Pamela strokes her arms up and down her sides, holding her still.

Suddenly, there’s a small cry from across the hall and they both freeze. Harley licks her lips. “That’s Luce,” She says, her throat dry. “I’d better check on her.” Pamela puts her down carefully and tidies her hair. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“Yeah,” Harley says. “Come on.”

Lucy’s sitting up in the large bed, eyes and nose streaming. “M-mommy,” She wails, reaching for Harley, who rushes over to pick her up. Pamela takes a tissue from the box on the bedside table and wipes at the little girl’s nose.

“Had a bad dream,” Lucy says, whimpering.

“Oh, chickadee, I’m so sorry,” Harley says, holding her tight. “Do you need me to phone auntie ‘Lina or will Pam and I do?”

Lucy breaks into a fresh set of tears. “A-auntie ‘L-lina.”

Harley pats herself down for her phone and realises she left it in the other room. “Could ya hold her just a sec?” She says, passing Lucy into Pamela’s waiting arms. She dashes back into the kitchen to find her phone, leaving Pam murmuring soothingly to Lucy. When she gets back, Lucy is almost completely calm and back in the bed, Pamela lying on top of the covers next to her. “Okay,” she says, dialling up Selina. “Here you go, Lucy-goose.”

Lucy cradles the phone in her little hands and waits until Selina pops up on the screen. “Auntie ‘Lina!” She says, still a bit sniffly. “I had a bad dream but Miss Isley helped me.”

Selina, resplendent in her lilac dress and floppy sunhat, quirks an eyebrow at Pamela, who looks down, embarrassed. “I’ll leave you two to it,” She says, getting up quickly and moving to Harley’s side. Selina talks about Abu Dhabi and how Auntie Talia fell in the pool and got her hair wet, and Mr Fidget’s latest adventures (slightly exaggerated for Lucy’s benefit). Lucy tells her about how mommy made a friend and it was Miss Isley and how Mr Kent gave five kids a piggyback at once because he’s so strong and how she’s going to do her first ballet grade soon. Harley blanches at that and hopes she can afford to pay for the exams.

Pamela stands by her side, listening enraptured to the conversation.

Harley wonders if she’s never had access to these kinds of family experiences before; she certainly hadn’t sounded keen to talk about her parents. She leans into her, casting a small smile upwards. Talia’s voice floats in from somewhere calling, “Selina, beloved, we’re going to be late… Is that Lucy on the phone?” Selina hands the phone over and says her goodbyes, presumably going to get ready. “Auntie Ta!” Lucy yells. “You look so pretty!”

“Well, yes,” Talia’s voice comes through, sounding almost flustered. “Of course I do, it’s in my genes. Thank you though, little one. You look very pretty too.”

Selina returns and the two talk in hushed tones. Then Talia says, “Alright, little one. We have to go now, but we’ll speak soon. Tell your mother I expect to hear all the details soon. She’ll know what I mean. Goodbye, Lucy.”

As soon as Lucy and Selina have finished saying goodbye, Lucy turns around. “Auntie Ta says she expec’s to hear the dee-tails soon,” She chirps.

“Yeah,” Says Harley wearily. “I heard that part.”

They tuck Lucy in again, and walk back to Pamela’s room.

Pamela smiles at her shyly. “That was nice,” She says. “Is the one with the short hair your sister?” Harley snorts. “Selina? Kinda. We went to school together, she’s technically Lucy’s godmother, I guess. Dad was Catholic so he woulda wanted her to have godparents, Ma’s Jewish but I doubt she’d care really.” Pamela nods. Harley presses on. “Lucy’s always called her Auntie. Selina is the nosiest person ever though and combined with Talia’s crazy investigative skills they’re a lethal combo, so they’ll be phonin’ for gossip about you sometime during the week, I just know it.” _Anyone I date has to pass Lucy’s standards_ , she doesn’t add. Not that it matters, if there were a test, Pamela would pass with flying colours.

“Oh,” Pamela says, grinning. “Does this mean this is a thing, then?”

Harley makes a face and looks down, face hot. “I mean, yeah. If you, uh, wanted it to be.”

“I would,” Pamela says, leaning in to kiss her sweetly. “I very much would.”

“I still think you’re too perfect,” Harley blurts out. “I’ll be watching ya!”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Pamela says, smiling mischievously. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

They head to bed, Harley sneaking exhilarating peeks of Pamela’s long legs and the soft curve of her stomach as she changes into her pyjamas, distractedly putting on the night clothes Pamela had offered. Harley gets into the bed and Pamela turns off the main light, leaving only the bedside one, a little reading lamp shaped like a leaf. It’s oddly domestic, just getting into bed with Pamela. There’s no expectations, and Pamela peers at her fondly, her lovely mouth tugging upwards at the corners. “Can I turn the light off?” She asks and Harley nods, rolling towards her, arms outstretched. Pamela flicks the switch and then reaches back and they meet in a warm tangle of limbs. It’s a soft comforting kind of kiss, and while Harley is a little disappointed in the loss of the fiery passion from earlier, she can easily admit to herself that once again, Pamela knows exactly what she needs.

In the morning, Harley wakes to find her face nuzzling a warm back, arms wrapped around Pamela’s waist as tightly as she can manage. She closes her eyes again and snuggles in until she feels Pamela stir. “Morning,” She mumbles into her shoulder. “Ugh,” Pamela groans, rolling over to cuddle her in return. “What time is it?”

“Too early,” Harley says. Pamela slips out of her arms and goes to check the time on her phone. “Urgh,” She says. “Do you want to use the shower first or can I?”

Harley lets her go first, sitting up in bed and letting the covers pool around her waist. She checks her phone to find several messages from Selina and sighs, deciding to scroll through Twitter instead in order to find less drama. In a little while Pamela comes back into the room in a jade towel, her red curls loose and wet. Harley’s heart does a happy little skip.

Pamela takes a dry towel out of a drawer under the bed and passes it to Harley. “Should I go wake up Lucy?” She asks, wringing water out of the ends of her hair and into her sleep shirt. “I can make pancakes for breakfast.” _Pancakes!!! Hell yeah_ , thinks Harley. “Yeah, that’d be great,” She says aloud, in a super grown up and normal way.

She heads into the shower and washes her hair; whatever conditioner Pam uses smells amazing, and she comes out of the bathroom in a cloud of floral scent. _Succubus??_ She types into her notes app as she dries her hair. That would definitely explain the magic pheromones and the powerful hot stuff vibes. She rifles through Pamela’s drawers for a clean shirt and puts on one that reads _ROBINSON PARK IS NOT YOUR DUMP!_ and the jeans from yesterday, and walks out into the hallway to find the kitchen. When she gets there she sees Lucy and Pam side by side, cooking pancake batter in a skillet. Well, Pamela is cooking, Lucy’s just standing on a chair watching, but it’s tremendously cute all the same.

She goes and sits down at the table and makes a huge performance of yawning and stretching widely. “Are my two favourite ladies making breakfast?” She says, grinning at the shy pleased expression on Pam’s face as she hears her. “Yeah!” Lucy yells, waving a batter splattered spatula in her hand. She’s in a shirt of Pam’s too, white with little roses on it which comes almost down to her chubby little ankles. Pamela carefully lowers the heat and grabs a dishcloth to clean up the spray of batter left on the counter by Lucy’s enthusiastic swinging.

The pancakes are warm and buttery, and Harley eats about five in quick succession before she admits defeat and sits, rubbing her belly proudly and watching Pamela cut Lucy’s pancakes into bite sized pieces for her with no small amount of tenderness.

 _Maybe there’s nothing strange going on with her at all_ , Harley thinks. _Maybe I just wanted there to be._ She sits for a long time and just watches Pamela and Lucy eat, unsure what to do or think. Pamela gathers the plates and starts washing up and Harley absentmindedly wipes down Lucy’s hands with the clean side of the abandoned dishcloth.

 _I want to be right_ , she thinks, staring at Pamela’s back. _I don’t want this to have been a delusion._ Pamela turns around and smiles at her as if she knows she’s being thought of and her sharp white canines glint in the morning light. Harley swallows nervously and opens up her notes app. _Definitely a cryptid_ , she types. **_**Definitely.**_**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i got loads of writing done in the last two weeks cause my new meds were boosting my 'straight out of mania' mood but if the updates slow down a little now that i'm getting lower, please don't be mad. as always, comments and kudos really encourage me, especially if they're about bits you enjoyed most, and I will always do my best to reply. stay safe and well xxx


	5. museum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pamela takes lucy and harley out. she also meets an old friend.

After breakfast, Harley and Lucy lie on the sofa and rub their full stomachs, both making groaning noises that cause a look of alarm to briefly flit across Pamela’s face before she realises that each Quinzel is trying to out-do the other in dramatics, rather than her fear that they’re succumbing to terrible food poisoning on her nice couch.

Once they’re finished play-acting, Harley goes to bathe Lucy and Pamela heads to the kitchen, to prepare a picnic for later, she says. Pam’s bathroom is lovely and lonely, like the rest of the house, and everything is just a bit too clean, like she doesn’t know what to do with herself most of the time and ends up just endlessly tidying. The tiles are a pretty pale green that Lucy traces her fingers over thoughtfully while Harley runs the bath. “Does Miss Pam have an Auntie ‘Lina?” She says, lifting her arms up for Harley to remove her sleep shirt.

Harley pauses, testing the bath temperature. “What do ya mean, chickadee?”

Lucy looks at her solemnly. “Who does she call when she has bad dreams?”

Harley lifts her into the bath and finds a bottle of the least expensive looking shampoo she can find and begins to lather her hair. “I’m not sure, baby,” She says, combing out a particularly tricky knot with a soft apology. “You could ask her. Maybe she doesn’t have bad dreams at all.” Lucy gives her a look.

“She _does_ have them, like you, mommy,” She says, matter of fact, then her little face brightens. “Miss Pam said she was makin’ a picnic!” Harley grins at her, washing out some of the shampoo as carefully as she can. “Okay,” She says, “Let’s get this stuff outta your hair and then we can help her out.”

Once Lucy is dry and dressed, they head back into the kitchen to see Pamela folding three yellow checked cloth napkins neatly. She looks up and smiles when they enter and gestures to where she’s laid out a chopping board with various foods on it. “I thought I’d let you choose what kind of sandwiches you fancy,” She says, opening the fridge to pull out some lunch meat and smoked salmon, most likely for herself as Lucy’s palate was nowhere near that refined as of yet. Harley helps Lucy make a ham cheese and tomato sandwich and gets started on her own PB and J. Pamela makes herself two cream cheese, lettuce and smoked salmon sandwiches and Harley hastily copies her in making one because it looks fancy but also pretty nice, and she’s always up for new things, unless it’s Netflix specials, and then she will just watch John Mulaney over and over until she dies.

Pamela tosses a salad - Harley grimaces involuntarily until she sees Lucy making the exact same face and then she laughs - and wraps everything up carefully, putting everything into her teal rucksack.

“I was thinking we could drive out to the museum,” Pamela says brightly, drying her hands on the dishtowel. Harley thinks about dusty old artifacts and dreary old tour guides and winces inwardly, however Lucy punches the air and yells, “YES!”

_It’s decided then_ , Harley thinks, somewhat gloomily.

Pamela parks in the lot outside the museum and Harley looks around, surprised to see plenty of parents with their kids parking or milling around in the parking lot. Pamela catches her eye and winks. “It’s a special event on Ancient Egypt,” She says, beaming as she unstraps Lucy’s seatbelt and helps her out of her booster seat. “I checked out their website earlier.”

“ _Yeah!_ Ancien’ Egypt!” Cheers Lucy, reaching up to be carried. Dutifully, Pamela picks her up and holds her balanced on her hip; Lucy then reaches up and brushes a little loose curl from Pam’s face with a face of extreme concentration. Harley takes this in with a stupid helpless kind of grin and shuts the car door on her side, moving around the vehicle so she can hold Pam’s free hand. “Ready to go, pretty ladies?” She says, waggling her eyebrows in order to make Lucy laugh. They head into the museum and Harley tries not to feel like a cheap date as Pamela pays for the Egypt event, so smoothly that Harley doesn’t even realise what she’s doing until her card is already beeping against the reader to confirm the transaction. Lucy stays perched on Pam’s side the whole time, playing with a ringlet of Pamela’s long thick hair and occasionally asking questions quietly while her wide eyes take in the arches of the old building. Harley can tell by the besotted expression on the museum employee’s face that the two are a deadly combination and slings her arm as casually as she can around Pam’s waist in order to dissuade any hopes the man might have of asking her out.

The museum is surprisingly interesting - not an old dusty building at all, but a newly renovated (presumably by Wayne Enterprises) and well-lit place with quiet adults, some sketching, some talking to each other, some just looking around, and a range of chatty to outright yelling kids. Pamela steers them in the direction of the noise, where a tall, thin faced man surrounded by children is struggling to keep a few from actively climbing up his legs. “Jonathan!” Pamela calls brightly, and the thin faced man plus the children on him look up, startled. She carefully hands Lucy back to Harley and walks over to embrace the man warmly. “Pamela,” The man says, looking slightly happier and less grey. He has a long slightly sunken looking face and startling blue eyes, and Harley supposes he could be considered handsome, if you liked that sort of thing.

The man continues talking, rapidly moving his eyes between Pam to where and Harley and Lucy are standing, just behind her. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, dear, I must say. Is this your family?”

“Um,” Harley says, faintly.

“Yes,” Pamela and Lucy say.

“Splendid, splendid,” He continues, wringing his hands. His odd crowd of children edge closer, giggling to themselves and each other. “I’m Dr Crane, Pamela and I went to college together. How do you do?” He extends his hand and Harley shakes it.

Lucy reaches out too, not one to be left out, and Jonathan shakes her little hand very carefully, a bemused expression on his pale face. “What a polite child,” He says, taking off his wire frame glasses and wiping them on his waistcoat before putting them back on. “I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised, but this lot,” He gestures to the giggling horde. “-do not have the same manners, it seems.”

He checks his wristwatch, and straightens up. “Will you stay for the show, dearest?”

Pamela smiles. “I didn’t know it would be you lecturing, Jonathan, but that’s what we’re here for. Lucy loves history.”

Dr Crane, despite his obvious lack of people skills, puts on a very entertaining show. This is helped by his young assistant, who clearly has the tech skills between them and is on Powerpoint duty, benignly going between slides and making crocodiles and boats pop up as the doctor talks about the Nile river. “It was the source of all life for the Ancient Egyptians,” He says, as cartoon images of a basket of food and a glass of water pop up on-screen behind him. “Can anyone tell me their favourite place to be?” Lots of little hands shoot up and several voices call out various places. Lucy, standing shyly apart from the other children, tugs on Harley’s elbow insistently. Harley leans down and Lucy whispers, “I like kindergarten the best. All my friends and Miss Isley are there.”

Harley smiles, ruffling Lucy’s hair. “What about spending time with mommy _and_ Miss Isley?”

“That’s the best,” Says Lucy, very seriously. “Because then I’m with my favouritest people in the whole world.” Harley resolves never to tell Selina or Talia that they didn’t make the admittedly short ‘favouritest’ people list and instead smiles and smiles like there’s something wrong with her. She’s sure she’s made the right choice letting Pamela into their little family, even if the woman isn’t a cryptid.

Dr Crane asks for a volunteer to hold the ‘organs’ - soft toys shaped like each organ and brightly coloured - and Lucy shoots her hand up into the air. Dr Crane’s assistant chooses her, and she skips up to the front of the room. “Now, hold this carefully,” Dr Crane says, gravely. “This is the heart and it needs to be preserved specially in this jar so that the person can go to the afterlife.” Lucy holds the plush red toy carefully and places it in the ‘special jar’ - a cardboard box painted with hieroglyphs. “Now, who can guess what’s next?” Dr Crane says, peering into the crowd. “The brain!” Shrieks one particularly bloodthirsty child. “The eyes!” Yells another. “Damn,” Says Harley, as Dr Crane talks matter of factly about how the brain is removed through the nose with a hook; several parents look horrified, but most of the little kids seem fine with it.

After the presentation is over, Pam and Dr Crane say their goodbyes; exchanging contact details and hugging for what Harley deems slightly too long. She makes herself feel better by draping herself all over Pamela once she returns and the taller woman gives her a deeply amused smile, as if she’s seen right through her, yet again. _Telepathy??_

Lucy begs to see the museum’s sword collection and they make their way over together, all holding hands in a line like the soppiest bunting ever made. While Lucy runs up and down in front of the glass cabinets, pigtails fanning out behind her, Pamela and Harley sit on the bench and wait for her, talking quietly and occasionally trading chaste kisses. It’s pretty much the best, Harley thinks, and calls Lucy over so she can take a cute selfie of the three of them for her Instagram.

Once they’ve had a good look at most of the exhibits, they leave for the car and Pam drives them to Robinson’s Park, which is usually a bit of a tip, but has recently been done up, and to Harley’s surprise, is startlingly nice. Pamela screws up her face at the sight of a single crumpled beer can on the ground and throws it away properly, but apart from that, the park is green-ish and there’s no one screwing or overdosing in it, which is definitely a win for Gotham. They find a nice patch of grass with daisies, and Pam lays out a picnic blanket down while Lucy starts busying herself with making a daisy chain.

Harley helps Pamela set out the food, and then they all wash their hands under her stern gaze, despite the fact that Harley’s sure a little dirt never hurt anyone. Still, it’s good that one of them is the responsible adult, and the flowers getting watered at the same time had to be good, too. They eat; Harley watches in amusement as Lucy picks the tomatoes out of her sandwich and offers them to Pam, who obediently opens her mouth and allows the little girl to pop them in. It’s a very sweet sight, and she makes sure to take lots of pictures.

Her salmon sandwich is surprisingly tasty; she swaps half a peanut butter sandwich for half of one of Pam’s and the other woman eats it very carefully with both hands like she’s never had one before. “Miss Pam,” Lucy says, holding out a daisy chain. Pamela takes it very seriously and thanks her, placing it on top of her curls. “Are your other family posh?” Lucy continues, pointing at the way Pam’s eating the sandwich. “Auntie Talia is posh, she won’t eat some things. Like Wonderbread.”

“Lucy!” Harley hisses. “You can’t ask people things like that, it’s rude.”

Pam finishes chewing, thoughtfully. “It’s alright,” She says. “Yes, my mother and extended family are quite posh. I think they’d prefer genteel, or upper class, but they’re not very nice so you can call them whatever you like, really.”

“Ah,” Says Lucy, sagely. “They’re buttholes.”

“ _LUCY!_ ” Says Harley, “Who taught ya that word?!”

“You did, mommy,” Lucy says, picking up her sandwich serenely.

Pamela laughs and laughs.

It’s pretty much a perfect day. At one point they’re pretty sure they even see Superman flying overhead, although as Pamela says, it could have been a bird, or a plane. 

Soon, the sun begins to set and they all pile into the car. Aretha Franklin plays on the radio and the fading light filters in through the windows, red gold and wonderful against Pamela’s warm brown skin. She drops them back at the parking lot by their apartment and Harley kisses her firmly, dazed by the wild look in her striking eyes. Lucy tugs impatiently at her sleeve and she moves away to let her hug Pam and say goodbye. They walk back to the apartment together hand in hand, turning back every so often to see the little car driving away slowly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my mental health is BAD and i have no motivation but hopefully i'll get started on a new chapter soon


	6. test

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ra-ra-rasputin except the certain man is bruce wayne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bit of a shorter chapter today, still not feeling well but trying to press on and write this because i've had so much lovely feedback. hope you're all well and feeling okay despite the current state of things xx

“In our last session,” Dr Winters says, hands clasped together on her lap, “We talked about you letting someone new into you and your daughter’s lives. We also talked about your difficulties in letting strangers in, shall we discuss the reasons behind that?”

Harley shifts in her seat and picks a stray hair off her work overalls. “Um,” She says, looking away in discomfort. “It’s hard because of Joe. And what he did.”

Dr Winters gazes at her patiently over the rim of her glasses.

“It’s like. He wasn’t terrible at the start, he seemed really normal an’ nice, so if he ended up bein’ a piece of shit, anyone could.” Harley feels hot tears prickling in her eyes and swipes at them with her sleeve, frustrated. Dr Winters passes her the tissues, smiling placidly. “Let’s start there,” She says.

Harley leaves the session forty-five minutes later, mascara dripping down her cheeks and leaving long streaks that she catches sight of in the reflection of her phone screen. She glances around quickly, then opens Snapchat and takes a selfie to send to Pamela. _Jigsaw part 2_ , she captions it. Then she puts her phone back in her sequinned fanny pack and pulls out the travel sized packet of make-up wipes Pam had given her for her last breakdown and begins to wipe at the mess on her face, carefully dabbing at the corners of her eyes to avoid getting glitter in them. Cat Grant likes to say stuff like ‘oh, is the circus in town?’ about her make-up, but Harley reckons if you’re not having fun with your appearance you’re just wasting time. Sometimes Harley does Lucy’s face as a treat, and depending on whether the little shrimp wants ‘mommy’s scary make-up’ or ‘mommy’s cute make-up’ they hang out together with matching dramatic red and black or pastel blue and pink eyeshadow.

Presently, Harley’s phone buzzes with a new Snap from Pamela. It’s a picture of her in her garden, brown skin glowing in the sun as she holds up a fistful of weeds triumphantly.

_How was therapy? Miss you lots <3_

Harley takes a quick picture of herself sticking her tongue out jauntily; a passing old woman gives her a dirty look and she beams back. _Not too bad._ She types. _Talked about stuff. Miss u too bby._ The bus arrives shortly and she hops on, showing her pass to the grudgingly awake driver. She heads down the aisle, stepping over a puddle of something to get to a seat and checks the time. Looking out of the grimy windows, she watches the crisp pale daylight melt into the burnt glow of early evening until the bus arrives at her stop.

There’s a huddle of parents outside the dance studio and Harley joins them, checking her reflection in her phone screen to be sure there’s no lingering traces of streaky make-up. The doors open, and a stream of kids flood out. Harley spots Lucy waiting by the door and swerves quickly around the other parents to get to her, almost bowling over a small boy as she does so. Apologising briefly, she looks up to see Lucy’s small face crumpling into a picture of distress and she speeds over, alarmed. “Hey, jellybean, what’s wrong?” She says, crouching down in front of her and reaching for her little face to wipe away the tears. Somewhere behind Lucy, the dance teacher clears her throat and says in lightly accented English, “Ms Quinzel. A word, please.”

“Come on, Luce,” Harley says warily, “Let’s go inside.”

The teacher explains that the deadline to pay for Lucy’s ballet exam is fast approaching, and all the other parents have paid already, or opted out. “If you don’t make the payment by Friday, Lucy will be unable to take part,” She says, looking sympathetically at the little girl. Her gaze, however, turns cold when she looks at Harley. “Sort it out, Ms Quinzel. Thank you for your time.”

Harley holds Lucy on the bus for longer than is strictly necessary to comfort her. The bold colours of the flourishing Gotham sunset no longer comfort her, instead the brightness torments her and she gnaws on the skin to the side of her nails until they bleed. There’s no way she can make the payment, even if Shona agrees to give her more shifts. Lucy looks up at her tearfully, as if she knows how dire the situation is; Harley is aware that if Lucy doesn’t sit the exam she won’t be able to move up to the next class and she’ll be stuck another year in her current group but with younger students. She curses herself for being so forgetful to not have planned and saved for the exam payment and wonders how she can possibly make this up to Lucy. _Maybe Pam will know what to do,_ she thinks and gets out her phone.

Pam’s sent her two Snapchats since she last looked; one is a picture of a neatly weeded flowerbed, the second is a smiling selfie with her holding a bumblebee aloft on her index finger. Harley mentally adds _‘Disney Princess’_ to her list. She shoots off a quick message asking for advice. Lucy begins squirming on her knee and she loosens her grip and adjusts her so she’s comfortable. “Sorry, Luce,” Harley says quietly. “Mommy’s just a little on edge.”

Lucy huffs and turns away, getting her set reading book out of her dinosaur backpack and beginning to read, tracing her finger carefully under each word. Great, thinks Harley, feeling almost like crying. She has a bunch of unopened notifications from Selina which she swipes aside to deal with later and watches the three dots of Pamela’s incomplete reply move across the screen. Eventually, the message comes in.

_I’m sorry Harl. Is there any way you’d let me help pay?_

And then, rather hurriedly:

_NOT a charity type situation. A this is a good thing for Lucy and you can pay me back situation. Please._

Harley stares at the screen and bites her lip before beginning to type. 

_i’ll pick up a few extra shifts w shona and then we’ll see but i don’t want ya money ok_

A few minutes go by and Harley wonders if she was too harsh. Then she gets a new message.

_I understand, just trying to help out my student._

Ouch.

Harley bites at her hangnails and texts a quick apology before looking back at Lucy, who’s resolutely ignoring her. “Jellybean,” She tries. “It’s our stop soon, let’s put your book away, yeah?” She receives a stubborn glare in response and the little girl clutches the book even tighter.

Another message pings in.

_It’s okay, Harley, really. If you don’t want my money you could try appealing to the Wayne Community Arts fund. They’d probably pay for it if you qualify._

Now there’s an idea! She opens her browser and types in ‘Wayne Community Arts Fund’.

There are plenty of articles available, all with pictures of smiling people standing next to the broad beaming figure of Bruce Wayne, which she bypasses in favour of the actual website link. There’s an option to register for monetary aid, and she types in her area code and address along with her yearly salary and up pops a little notification. _Congratulations!_ It says in large red letters. It tells her a time and date for an appointment at Wayne Enterprises to be personally assessed and she screenshots it before the information vanishes. Then she messages Pamela.

_thank u so so much. i had no idea this was a thing. i got an appointment on friday!! xox_

She receives a ‘you’re welcome’ in response and a bunch of laughing crying emojis, which is odd, but Pamela texts like she’s going to be graded on it, so it’s pretty cute that she’s trying to keep up with Harley’s own excessive use of emojis.

Their stop arrives, and Harley and Lucy walk to their building in silence, the little girl determinedly taking the stairs two at at time, which is clearly a struggle with her little legs, but when Harley reaches a hand out to help it’s batted away so she just lets her get on with it. The night passes relatively quietly; Lucy sulks until dinnertime, where she helps Harley make a green chicken curry with help from Pamela over Facetime, and then immediately after goes back to colouring quietly by herself. Harley puts her to bed shortly after and continues her conversation with Pam late into the night until she falls asleep with the phone in her hand.

By the time Friday swings around, Lucy’s perked up almost completely back to her normal self and sits playing with her trucks on the floor as Harley stands in front of the mirror inspecting herself with a critical eye. She has two properly formal outfits in total, each on a hanger in front of her. The pant suit is black and finely pinstriped with red with a fun diamond pattern on the inside lining and a white shirt to go with it. Selina had gotten it tailored for her when she’d had her last big job interview, and although she hadn’t got the job, she’d definitely been checked out by a bunch of office assistants, so who’s really winning? The skirt suit on the other hand, is a dark navy blue with no exciting or redeeming qualities to it. It had been bought for another job interview, and without wearing a fun print shirt under the blazer was impossibly dull. “Whatcha think, Luce?” She calls over her shoulder, holding up both suits. Lucy shrugs nonchalantly and carries on playing. Harley purses her lips and looks fondly at the black suit and then despairingly at the blue. “Guess I have to look respectable and stuff,” She mumbles, putting away the black suit with one lingering look. She rummages through her shirts until she finds a pale cream blouse and puts the whole ensemble on, forgoing tights because she doesn’t have any non-laddered ones, with her most sensible and non-scuffed pumps. It’s not a bad look per say; she winks at herself in the mirror and makes her way into the bathroom to do her hair and attempt boring and minimalist make-up.

By the time she gets to Wayne Enterprises, a cold nervous sweat begins to play upon her forehead and lower back and she finds herself desperately wishing she had Pamela or Selina with her, or hell, even Talia. The modern building, although well-lit and spacious, feels like a chokehold and she shuffles inside in her department store shoes, feeling out of place.

The receptionist glances at her and smiles warmly. “Welcome to Wayne Enterprises,” He says warmly. “Do you have an appointment?”

Harley makes her way over to the front desk. “Yeah,” She says, “It’s with the Community Arts Project.”

The receptionist gives her a clearly practiced perky grin and begins tapping wildly on his sleek black tablet. “Oh!” He says, looking up at her. “You’ve been chosen to be personally assessed by Mr Wayne today, that’s neat,” He then lowers his voice, leaning in conspiratorially. “Don’t mind Mr Wayne, he might be a bit of a flirt but he doesn’t mean any harm.” He draws back, smiling pleasantly. “Now it’s the top floor, take the elevator to your right. Good luck!” Harley gives him a watery smile and walks over to the elevator, heels clicking on the smooth stone floor.

The elevator, much like the rest of the building, is designed in a cool palette of blues and greys with broad glass panels that enable her to peer into each level as it passes before she finally reaches the top. Stepping out, she’s greeted by a harried looking personal assistant with steel grey hair pulled back into a severe bun. Funny, Harley thinks, she’d have expected someone a bit younger and dishier, eye candy for the flirtiest businessman in Gotham.

“Miss Quinzel?” The personal assistant says, gaze firmly on her tablet as she taps away on it.

“Yeah,” Harley says, fidgeting. The assistant looks her up and down and hums, though whether in approval or not Harley cannot say.

“This way, please,” The assistant says, heading towards a large pair of wood doors. “You’re to be personally assessed by Mr Wayne today, don’t mind him, he can be a bit…” The personal assistant trails off. “A bit of a horndog?” Harley suggests.

The personal assistant grimaces. “I was going to say, ‘eccentric’. Okay, well, good luck.”

And then Harley finds herself unceremoniously thrust into the office of Bruce Wayne.

The man himself is sitting in some sort of eighties boss power pose; arms folded behind his head, legs stretched carelessly over a pile of paperwork on a desk that probably costs more than her rent twice over. “Hey, toots!” Bruce Wayne says, swinging his legs off the table and swaggering over to tower over her. He reaches out a large hand to shake, curiously calloused for someone that is essentially paid to be the company’s figurehead. She then remembers all the articles online about Bruce Wayne’s sports injuries and chalks it up to that.

“Or am I not allowed to say that anymore?” Bruce Wayne says, grinning amicably. “If it’s any consolation, I call the boys ‘toots’, too.”

Harley tries to smile back but it comes out a nervous grimace. “Uh, Harley is fine,” She says, “I mean, it’s my actual name.”

“Fabulous!” Wayne booms. “Like the bike! Or is it a boat? Harley somethings.” He scratches his head in a show of confusion and walks back to his chair, throwing himself down into it. Harley winces on the chair’s behalf, Bruce Wayne is _not_ a small man. He probably gyms like a fiend. “So I’m here for an interview,” She tries, because Wayne is still talking about whether it’s a Harley Davidson or a Harley Donaldson, and she’d really like to get this back on track.

“Yes!” Wayne says, pouring himself a glass of what looks like some kind of whiskey. “Let’s get this show on the road. Tell me about yourself, toots.”

Harley sighs internally but presses on, she’s dealt with much more annoying and much more dangerous men than Bruce Wayne, and there’s no way she’s screwing this up for Lucy. So she smiles as brightly as she can. “I’m twenty-eight, and a mechanic, I have a five year old daughter called Lucy, she’ll be six this year,” Wayne sits up straight at that. “I have a five year old son!” He says, whipping out his phone. “Want to see some pictures?”

Harley decides to humour him. “Sure,” She says, leaning over.

By the time the hour is nearly up, Harley’s on first name privileges with Bruce, she’s seen a multitude of pictures of his horde of children and she’s even got a recipe for his butler’s famous traditional scones. “It was great meeting you, Harley,” Bruce says, walking her to the door. The personal assistant from before waits outside looking as stern and stressed as before. “Likewise!” Harley says, and finds herself meaning it. She goes through the door and as soon as it’s shut sighs heavily, rubbing her temples. “It was that bad?” The personal assistant says, grimly. “No,” Harley says, “I just don’t know if it was a test, or if I passed.”

The personal assistant walks her to the elevator. “You’ll find out soon enough, we’ll be in touch.”

Harley leaves, feeling strangely both lighter and heavier than before and waits for the bus.

She unlocks her phone and discovers three missed calls from Selina as well as a text:

_Guess who’s back!! xx_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if anyone would like to check out some beautiful art made for this fic, please check out this piece from @sadiejwolfblood on tumblr! 
> 
> https://sadiejwolfblood.tumblr.com/post/618291623158284288/harlivy-parents-with-their-daughter-lucy-inspired
> 
> as always, art inspired by my stuff always makes me stupidly happy, so if you want to do some, regardless of skill, i'd be very pleased x x


	7. an outing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley, Pamela and Lucy go to dinner with Lucy's aunts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's finally here, though whether it's good or not is a different story. things have been difficult for me so it's been really hard to write, but i've managed kind of. hope you like it.

Harley calls Selina back. It takes two rings before she’s on the line, and before she can even open her mouth to say hello, Selina’s purring, _“Darling!”_

“Hi Kitty,” Harley replies, half confused. “When you said you’re back did you mean back in the US or back in Gotham?”

“In Gotham, of course,” Selina says, and Harley can hear the self-satisfied smile in her voice. “Talia and I are booked into the Old Gotham Hotel, if you’d like to visit. Tonight, we’re all going out to dinner, Talia’s treat! Bring your teacher girlfriend, it’ll be fun - I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

Harley grins despite herself - Selina has never behaved in her life unless it suited her to. “What time?”

“About six,” Selina says. “I’ve missed you! And little Lucy, though she’s grown up quite a bit while we’ve been away.”

“Oh, yeah,” Harley says, watching her bus approach. “Small portions no longer. Should I let her know you’re here before or should it be a surprise?”

“Surprise her, obviously,” Selina replies, “It’ll be a special treat.”

After saying her goodbyes, Harley gets onto the bus and heads back home. Once inside the apartment, she gets herself a glass of water and flops down onto the couch to check her phone. Nothing from Wayne Enterprises, but she has a few unopened Snaps from Pamela which she taps through with a besotted grin on her face. She changes out of the skirt suit into sweatpants and a sports bra and goes to the kitchen to try and scrounge something up for lunch, noting that she needs to go shopping soon. She peels and eats a banana while putting in some toast and sends a chipmunk-cheeked selfie to Pam.

After a while of doing nothing, Harley sticks _Adventure Time_ on until it’s time to head out to pick up Lucy and walks out humming one of the songs, head bopping along as she puts on a jacket and walks to the bus stop. The bus journey is relatively quiet and today the seats don’t even smell, which is quite a treat. She makes her way through the hubbub of kids and parents inside the school gates and walks with a spring in her step all the way to Pamela’s classroom. Inside, she makes idle conversation with a couple of the parents until the door is opened and children spill out, dashing like little parent seeking missiles towards their relative grown-ups. Soon, the classroom is empty but for Lucy, Mr Kent and Pam.

“Hey, sweetheart!” Harley calls, opening her arms quickly as Lucy rushes into them. “Did you have a good day?” Pamela approaches smiling, and Harley reaches for her with her free hand, pulling her close. “Hey, my other sweetheart,” She says, leaning in to kiss her gently. Mr Kent coughs politely and they break apart slowly, smiling at each other softly. “I’ll be going now, Pamela,” He says, packing a brightly coloured child’s painting labelled _‘for Mister Kent’_ carefully into his rucksack. Harley notices he has a dimple in one cheek when he smiles. “Hope y’all have a great evening!”

“You too, Clark,” Pam says, “I hope your date goes well.”

“Oooooh!” Lucy calls, giggling and he blushes, grinning bashfully before waving as he heads out of the door.

“Lucy, baby, would ya pack your things?” Harley says, putting her down. “I need to talk to Pam about something just a sec.” Lucy dashes off across the room, humming as she grabs her crayons and the drawings and worksheets she’s filled in. Harley turns to Pam, feeling oddly shy for a second, though she can’t think why. “Hey, daffodil?” She asks, turning her most winning and hopeful smile upon the other woman then lowers her voice to almost a whisper: “Lucy’s aunts are in town and they’ve invited us out for dinner at a restaurant, would ya be free to come along? You’re specifically invited, they both want to meet you.”

“As Lucy’s teacher or as your girlfriend?” Pamela replies, just as quietly.

“As both, but mostly my girlfriend,” Harley says, blushing at the use of the ‘g’ word. They hadn’t really put a solid label on their relationship yet, other than their exclusivity, but it was definitely giving her the warm and fuzzies to hear Pam confirm them as together.

“Yes, I’ll come,” Pamela says, smiling back at her. “Can we stop at mine so I can grab something appropriate to wear? How fancy is it going to be?”

“Knowing Talia, prob’ly quite fancy.”

Lucy, finished packing her book bag, wanders over and they stop talking, smiling conspiratorially at each other. “Mommy, are we gonna go?” She says, poking at a small bruise on the back of her hand with interest.

“Yeah, baby,” Harley says. “Come on, Pam.”

“Miss Isley’s coming?” Lucy says, perking up. She reaches up to swing on Pamela’s arm, beaming up at her.

Harley laughs and takes Pam’s other hand. “Yeah, she’s coming. But only if you’re good, ya hear?”

They make a quick stop at Pam’s house in order for her to get a garment bag and shoes out of her closet and put her stuff away; Lucy opts to play in the garden while Pamela gets her things together and Harley heads to the kitchen to wait, noticing with pride that a drawing Lucy’s done is stuck to Pam’s fridge. It’s a house with a garden filled with flowers and three figures standing in front of it, one small with two yellow pigtails, one tall with red scribbled curls and one next to it with interesting clownish make-up and a yellow scribbled sort of helmet of hair. Harley’s not sure whether or not to be offended by that or not, but the way they’re all holding hands is cute enough for her not to mind too much.

Pamela comes into the kitchen with make up on, a forest green eyeliner and a deep burgundy lipstick, and she looks so glowy and pretty Harley wants to kiss the colour off her lips and onto her own, but she stops herself and settles for a low whistle. “Damn!” She says, grinning as she circles her arms around Pam’s waist, casting an appraising look over her. Pamela laughs, and allows herself to be gently twirled by the hand and dipped low. “Am I allowed to kiss ya, or will your lipstick smear?”

“I’ll reapply,” Pamela says, smiling up at her sultrily.

They kiss, gently because Harley genuinely doesn’t want to make her have to redo her lipstick, and then she lifts her back up to standing and twirls her again for good measure. They stand in each other’s arms for a minute, and then Harley points at the picture on the fridge and says, “Is my hair really as bad as Luce seems to think?”

Pamela makes a constipated sort of face that definitely means yes. “No…?” She says. Then, she backtracks. “If I were to describe it, I’d call it a fashionable mullet.”

Harley feels her mouth dropping open in horror. “You did not just say I have a mullet.”

“A fashionable one, though,” Pam says, earnestly. “Party in the back and all that. Yeehaw.”

Harley stares at her for a second and then they bursts out laughing, clutching each other to avoid falling. Once she’s got her breath back, Harley deadpans, “Yeehaw,” and they both burst into breathless laughter again.

Soon, they rejoin Lucy, and Harley compliments her on her artwork.

“Thanks!” She says, blushing with a combination of shyness and pride. “Issa family portrait.” _Damn right it is_ , thinks Harley fondly, hand on Pam’s thigh as she drives.

Once they get back to their apartment, Harley helps Lucy into her best dress while Pamela changes in Harley’s bedroom. “Are we goin’ out?” Lucy asks, carefully doing the velcro on the shiny red shoes that go with her dress. “Yeah, jellybean,” Harley says, putting in her earrings. “Best behaviour, hm?”

Lucy nods solemnly, tugging at the skirt of her dress. “Bestest best behaviour.”

They wait for Pam on the couch, Lucy swinging her legs impatiently. When she emerges from Harley’s room, Harley’s breath catches in her throat at the sight of her. Pamela’s hair is carefully pulled away from her face into an intricate up-do, and she wears a green dress so dark it’s almost black, carefully fitted to her form like a lover’s caress. She looks incredible.

“Wow, Miss Pam,” Lucy says, shooting up off the couch to flit about her teacher’s side. “You look _so pretty!”_ Harley’s inclined to agree. “You look stunning, peanut,” She says, breathlessly. “Super gorgeous.”

Pamela ducks her head, but she looks pleased. “Thank you,” She says, “But don’t you have to get a move on, Harl? What time do we have to be there?”

Harley checks her watch and uses a child-friendly curse word.

She skids into her room and dresses quickly, stepping into her black pantsuit and nicest cherry red pumps before quickly fixing her eyeliner in the mirror and heading back to the others. “Ready ta go?” She says breathlessly, swinging a black purse over her shoulder and stuffing her keys and wallet into it.

When they arrive at the address provided by Selina, Lucy’s eyes bug out in her little face and she runs to press her nose against the window. Harley rolls her eyes heavenward.

The restaurant is exactly what she’d expect from Talia and Selina. The place is lit up like a jewel with warm golden lights and elegant people in beautiful clothing laugh and eat together inside. Setting her shoulders in anticipation, Harley pushes the door open and steps in, Pamela and Lucy following behind her. At the bar, mixed among the other patrons with their glittering clothes and smiles, Selina turns and waves, beckoning them over with a bright grin. Her short curls are tight with some kind of product and strewn with silver hair pins while her dress is a deep plum with tiny silver beads along the neckline and hem. Lucy runs to her, flinging her little arms around Selina’s knees and hugging on tightly. Talia emerges from somewhere to Harley’s right, dressed in an eye-catching silver suit and heels, and they exchange a cordial half hug before Talia is appraising Pamela carefully as she reaches to shake her hand.

They all sit down at the table Selina has reserved and for a moment, there’s a deeply awkward silence. Under the table, Pamela squeezes Harley’s hand for dear life.

Harley’s about to invent a story from work to cut the tension when Lucy bursts in, kneeling on her seat precariously so she can be seen. “Auntie Lina! Auntie Ta! I made you both some presents but they’re at home ‘cause I didn’t know when we’d get to see you again.”

“Oh, how wonderful,” Talia says, reaching across the table to gently pat Lucy’s little blonde head. Her eyes crinkle fondly at the edges and she whispers conspiratorially, “We might have got you some presents too, precious.”

Lucy’s wide eyes shine with excitement. “I’ll be extra good then!” She says, sitting down with a thump. The waitress arrives and gives her an indulgent smile and they order drinks, white wine for Selina, Talia and Pamela and orange juice for Harley and Lucy.

“So,” Selina says, steepling her fingers and looking over them at Pamela. “How did you two meet?”

Pamela gives her a rueful little grin. “It was the first day of term, last year. Harley was arguing with Ms Gr- um, another parent, and I found myself mediating the argument. Nothing especially exciting. But we talked after that, just not properly until a couple of months ago.”

“Harley!” Selina says, appalled. “You didn’t snatch up this gorgeous woman immediately?!”

Pamela blushes dark and looks away. “Well, I didn’t really say anything,” She protests. “In Harley’s defence, I mean.”

Harley shrugs. “How was I s’posed to know she would be interested?”

Selina hums thoughtfully to herself before taking a sip of her drink. Lucy looks up from where she’s been playing with the cutlery and announces, “Miss Pam is the best teacher in the world! We learned about 3D shapes today. They’re like regular shapes ‘cept they’re more cool.”

“Oh, really?” Talia says, leaning in. “And what was your favourite 3D shape, precious?”

“Definitely a sphere,” Lucy says, pronouncing it closer to the name ‘Sophia’, “I like them best because they’re like bouncy balls and you can throw them.” Then her eyes go wide and she points to something over Selina’s shoulder, finger trembling a little with excitement. “Mr Kent’s here!” Harley looks in the direction she’s pointing and is vaguely surprised to see Clark almost comedically squeezed into a tiny booth with an equally tall and muscular man - a man who looked a hell of a lot like Bruce Wayne in a ginger wig and matching handlebar moustache.

“Can I go over and say hello?” Lucy says, leaning across Pam’s lap to tug at Harley’s hand. “Please please puh-lease?” Harley, still not over the shock that is the sight of Maybe Bruce Wayne, opens and closes her mouth for a few seconds before she manages to say, “Sure, just be polite an’ come back quickly.”

“Is that Bruce Wayne with Clark?” Pam whispers quietly. “Farmboy sure knows how to pick them.” They watch Lucy scamper over to Clark. Ginger Might Be Bruce Wayne gives her a high five and she skips back flushed pink and looking pleased with herself.

Soon, the food arrives and Harley watches, smitten, as Pamela helps Lucy with her napkin and cuts up her meal for her. Even Talia nods in approval, her stern dark eyes softening with something akin to respect. As they eat, Selina and Lucy talk between bites about Mr Fidget, who is seething quietly back at the hotel, and kindergarten - Lucy explaining all about her classmates and the activities coming up soon, while Harley and Pamela chat to Talia.

When the main course has been finished off, plates all scraped clean and glasses empty, Harley orders a big ice cream sundae for herself and Lucy to share. They both end up slightly sticky and Pamela carefully wipes both of their faces clean as Selina takes pictures for possibly blackmail purposes. Talia pays the bill before anyone else can even reach for their purse, so Harley decides to cover the tip quickly before Selina or Pamela can get there.

Afterwards, they wait in the well lit atrium of the restaurant for Selina and Talia’s taxi to arrive and Lucy plays hopscotch on the black and white tiles. Once the taxi arrives and they say their goodbyes, Pamela and Harley walk outside to the car and strap a sleepy Lucy into the back. For a while neither of them speak, quietly drawing close to each other and standing in each other’s arms, breathing softly. Harley breaks the silence, finding herself a little desperate to hear Pam’s opinion of the night. “Didja like them?” She says, craning her neck to see Pamela’s expression. “It’s only that I really wanted them ta like you, an’ I’m pretty sure they liked ya almost more than me.”

Pamela laughs at that, turning her pearly white smile on Harley, who feels like some kind of pre-roadkill animal caught in headlights. “I liked them a lot,” She says, “Are you sure they liked me though? Um, just ‘cause Talia was a little intense.”

“Ha,” Harley snorts, “She’s usually way more intense than that, Lucy mellows her out pretty good. But she definitely liked ya.”

“Uh huh?” Pamela says, planting a kiss atop Harley’s forehead.

“Oh yeah.” Harley replies, grinning. “Come on, babe, let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> harley does not have a proper mullet btw. she has her hair from the ends of birds of prey where it's loose, i just thought it looked like a fancy mullet

**Author's Note:**

> kudos's are funky fresh but comments are super groovy and will definitely motivate me to write more


End file.
